There, And To What End Comes
by PickleDillo
Summary: Bo Baggins did the best she could in keeping her past from following her into her hobbit-hole. There was more to life than the edge of a blade and being hunted by Orcs, but as the weeks go on and she finds herself less of an asset and more of a burden, she'll forge her own path and Eru bless anyone stupid enough to follow her.
1. To the Uninvited

**There, Never To be Back Again**

**A Hobbit's Tale**

* * *

He wasn't sure what he expected when the door swung open. The home itself had been odd, as all the other ones had been when he passed them on his travel. Mounds and hills hid windows and round doors, and the homes seemed to grow from the ground, under the roots and through the grass. So when he came upon the round green door, found Gandalf's mark, he expected a small, portly fellow. All the other small folk had appeared the same with big feet, curly heads, and stomachs that tipped just beyond the safety of their vests and shirts.

The lass in front of him was nothing like that of her people.

"Dwalin," he introduced himself with an almost breathless grumble, "at your service."

A tick of her slender brow and wariness came into her blue eyes. Even so, she bowed at the waist politely, but her gaze remained nailed to his face. Her curly brown hair was pulled back into a braid that came around her neck and rested just below her collarbone. Her skin was sunburnt and freckled over her cheeks and nose. It was then he noticed the scar that tugged the left side of her face, pulling at her brow and eye into a half scowl. It marred her otherwise pleasant face.

"Bo Baggins," she replied dutifully, "at yours. I beg your pardon, I wasn't expecting visitors." She came away from the door and moved toward him, toward the entrance, and for a moment Dwalin felt as if he should have stepped back. He didn't, but the urge to give the little creature her space was there. _She commands a space. She does not intimidate, but it is clear she is not shy. Wary. Curious._

"Clearly." Dwalin answered. "I was told there was to be a meeting here." His hand came up to the belt that crossed over his heart, and his fingers gripped lightly. Her gaze flickered over his furred shoulders and then down his arms, before coming back up and over his axes. She assessed him and took a cautious step back.

"A meeting?" She said lightly. "I don't recall – the wizard." She sighed and her eyes closed tightly. Tiny fingers came up and pinched the bridge of her nose. For a moment, her face pulled enough that the scar looked longer and deeper. Her hand came up and waved at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Dwalin, but – I had told the wizard I was to go on no more adventures. I have retired. Finished."

"Retired?" Dwalin questioned before he could stop his tongue. Is that where her scar had come from? "How does one retire from adventuring?" The creature before him paused and considered her answer before her crooked fingers came up and tapped at her scar.

"Mine was an almost permanent retirement. I took the signs given to me and settled." Blue eyes dared him to ask more, but he did not. He swallowed slightly and then cleared his throat. He bowed again, his axes clinking softly behind him.

"My sincerest apologies, mistress." Dwalin said softly as he pulled up from his bow. "It seems we were told less than we expected." At that, her face twisted and her hands came away from her sides and anchored at her hips.

"We? There are more of you? How many?" Her small and round face frowned and she stepped forward again, her gaze turned away from him and down the path he had come up, as if expecting more of his kin to appear from the shadows. He debated telling her the number, but decided against it. He was going to leave, and hopefully catch his kin before they came traipsing through the meadows and destroying what peace was left of the night. Indeed, the little creature was dressed in slacks and a loose dress shirt, and were it not for the length of her braid and the curve of her hip, he would have mistaken her at first glance for a bloke. Best to keep that bit of information to himself.

"A few," Dwalin relented. "The wizard had told us to come to the Shire, look for a green door with his mark upon it, and that there would be supper." For some reason, he felt ashamed to admit that the call of food had been an allure, aside from the quest itself. The little lass in front of him huffed and shook her curl covered head.

"Promises, promises. Very well, if there are to be more of you, I'm going to need some help." The door swung open further and she gestured with a flick of her wrist for him to come inside. He hesitated over her doorstep, but soon obeyed. Once inside, she closed the door behind him and tightened the length of strings around her shirt, pulling it shut against his eyes or the cold, he wasn't sure.

"Come on," she commanded gently, though he could hear some annoyance in her voice. "If there are to be more of you, and you've come all this way, I'll allow it." Her voice faded as she moved toward the inner halls of her home and Dwalin minded his head as he followed her. "I'll give that wizard a piece or two of my mind when he comes, _if_ he comes. Heavens above, if he's left me with a herd of dwarves to be dealt with on my lonesome, I'll hunt him down myself!"

A small tug of a smile graced the corner of his mouth before he forced it down. She had taken him to her pantry and she inspected it with a critical eye. As he came around the corner, she waved at him and pointed toward his axes, "You can set those in the corner for the moment, by my sword there – yes, by that wall – now come, help me move the table. How many are there of you?" Her small voice twittered sharply like a bird's call and Dwalin had to pull apart her words in his mind before answering her.

"Thirteen, mistress. Excluding the wizard and yourself." Her blue eyes went wide and then narrowed, her mouth puckering and he could see the line of her jaw clench underneath the sunburnt skin. The little creature was far from happy, but she stood her ground and nodded her head with determination.

"Right. Are they all as tall as you?" She glanced at him again. Dwalin felt himself inhale at her gaze, mightily proud of his size. He shook his head at her and the tension in her shoulders lessened. She smiled at him and blew at a curl that came into her eyes.

"Good. Goodness, I wouldn't know what to do with that much dwarf in my home."

* * *

It was almost reassuring to know he wasn't the only one taken by surprise at the sight of the lass. Balin had arrived not long after Dwalin had helped moved the chairs and table to fit the Company that would be coming, and to see his face when Bo Baggins opened the door had been priceless. It was the first time in a long while that he had seen his older brother trip over his words.

Bo had raised an eyebrow and she bowed, allowing him in. When the door was shut, she asked, "I have come to the conclusion that in his invitation to my home, Gandalf had failed to mention that I was either a hobbit, or a hobbit _lady._"

"Well," Balin cleared his throat after greeting Dwalin. "There is that, yes. When we had, er, heard of the name Bo, we assumed it would be a…"

"Quite right, I would suppose." Bo interrupted lightly, saving Balin from stepping any further into untested waters. They were guests in her home, and Dwalin had no doubts in his mind that she could just as readily herd them out of her den as she could shut her door behind them. There was a spit of fire in her actions that left a burn on everything she did. Whether from her ire at having to entertain guests at such a late hour, or she was just naturally molded that way, he could not know.

"If you would be so kind," she started and pointed a crooked finger at her pantry, "as to start removing the food from there and onto the table, I would be grateful." Balin shared a look with his brother, but they moved to accommodate her request. Another knock at the door turned her away from studiously watching them work and back to her front porch. Dwalin could hear the door swing open and he wondered for a moment which of the Company it could be.

"You must be… Mrs. Boggins?" Dwalin nearly laughed aloud at the confusion that colored the young prince's voice. The heavy sigh that followed weakened his hold and he chuckled. Balin, too, gave in to laughter and they walked out to spy the sight of two very confused princes in the stern gaze of the home's mistress.

"It's Baggins," she corrected them, "Bo Baggins, if you would be so kind. Set your swords there, against the others, and – watch where you track that mud!" Kili promptly clicked his feet together and Dwalin could see why. The boy's boots were completely muddy, but the hobbit's sharp eyes had caught him trying to clean them off upon her furniture. Dwalin came up and clapped the boy upon the shoulder.

"You know better than that, laddie." Dwalin scolded him. Fili and Kili gave him wide and happy grins, content to forget their things in the grip of their hostess. With a roll of her eyes, Bo resolutely dropped the weapons upon the ground, not giving a care as to where they went. Too right, Dwalin supposed, as the boys had just deposited the items into her arms without as much as a care for her person.

"Mister Dwalin!" Kili greeted cheerily, "Mister Balin!" He said as his gaze found the older brother. "Good to see you once more, and in good health!"

"Hush, boy." Balin ordered with a stern tone. "Set the table, find some chairs. Hurry, before the rest of the Company arrives." It was not to be so, Dwalin feared, as the door's bell rang from outside and Bo frowned. A hand came up to her scar and gently ran down the length of it before she returned to the door.

"If this is some block head's idea of a joke, I'll –" Bo muttered as the door was yanked open. Almost instantly, a wave of dwarves flushed into her home and with a high squeak, she leapt away from the entrance and huddled behind the door for protection. Dwalin snorted a laugh, _a lass after all, it seems._ She scowled heavily in his direction, more than likely having heard his laughter, but her blue blazing eyes immediately went to the wizard.

"I have half a mind to slice that beard right off your face with my trusty sword for the night you've put me through," Bo threatened, but there was no venom in her tone. "And for goodness' sake, what happened to taking turns?"

Her only response was Bofur holding up the small rope to her bell.

"This is just how it's going to be, isn't it?"


	2. A Home All Her Own

**Chapter 2**

**A Home All Her Own**

Bo found it almost comical how quickly her pantry had been raided. The food painted her longest table within her home and the dwarves surrounded it, armored and rowdy. She watched with a small cup of tea in her hands as bits of food flew across the open space, some landed in plates, others bounced off and rolled past her into the hall she stood in, and a few were caught with open mouths. She clenched her teeth together and sipped her tea through tight lips, desperately trying to calm her nerves. They tested her patience, but there had been worse things to come by. Another boiled egg flew through her line of sight and she winced as it found no catcher, smashing into the wall behind a dwarf's head.

Another tight sip.

As they continued to eat, she made a quick check on her home. The carpets were muddy and sticking to the floor from the added weight. The pantry, of course, she knew to be a picked-clean corpse of what it once was, and as she came to the washroom, she paused. _Heavens, no. I shan't be going in there._ The smell alone would curl her toes straight off her feet. She silently made her way back toward the dining area, not a single dwarf having noticed her disappearance. She glanced at Gandalf and all the wizard could give her was a small smile. _Oh yes, do find this humorous. You won't be here for the aftermath of such a gathering._ The idea of cleaning up such a disastrous event turned her stomach.

"You know," Bo said gently as the wizard past her, the dwarves now having the presence of mind to roam through her house after their meal, "You still haven't told me what these _guests_ are doing in my house."

Gandalf avoided her question, "My dear, I find them to be quite the entertaining sort. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yes." Bo answered; her voice light. "Now tell me, is this before or after my mother's old heirlooms are broken?"

"Hold, Mistress Baggins!" One of the dwarves called to her. She turned, careful to keep her forgotten cup of tea away from the looming figure. A blond dwarf, perhaps this one was Fili? He grinned at her. "We're a good bunch, we can pick up after ourselves without a single crack to your wares!"

"Excuse me?" One of them interrupted. Bo sighed and turned to him, his bowl cut a distraction to her gaze before she focused on his face. He pouted his lower lip to her as she tried to remember his name. _Ori? Or was it Nori? Goodness._ He smiled lightly at her. "What should I do with my plate?"

Bo went to take the plate, but Fili proved faster. His hand snatched it from her fingertips. "Here, Ori, we'll handle this! Kili!" Much to her surprise, the other brother appeared from the curves of her walls, as if waiting. She watched as her plate was tossed and she winced.

"If you could please," Bo pleaded, "try _not_ to do that! Those dishes are over a hundred years old and precious!"

"Easy," Kili grinned at her, his humor a bounce to his movement. "You can trust us with a few plates! Your forks and knives will come to no harm."

"You'll blunt them!" Bo said with some exasperation. Honestly, it was as if the words went through one ear and out the window. Then, a collective mischief quaked through them and her plates were tossed over her head and around her home. She ducked, her tea cup left on the table before her as they dwarves played with her cutlery.

Their voices broke out into song and Bo was amazed to see the organization that came with the tune. She hurried into the kitchen, frightened that her best plates were left in a misshapen pile of shards all over the floor and table. She stopped short, among the group of laughing dwarves, to see that her heirlooms remained intact.

Bo could feel the flush of heat come into her cheeks and touch the tips of her ears. She shook her head and her hand came up and rubbed against the side of her face, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Well I'll be… worried for not, it would seem." A few grinned at her, the others laughed, but their merriment was broken up by harsh knocks upon her door.

The liveliness they once displayed disappeared in a wink of an eye and the room grew quiet. Gandalf turned to her, his expression turned stiff and ominous. "He… is here." Bo frowned, unsure of whom the last visitor could be. She followed Gandalf to her front door, huffing as he opened it. _Whose home is this again?_ She wondered not for the first time. The door swung to one side and Bo found herself at the center of her entryway, the other dwarves having molded themselves to the side of her hall against the walls.

A few of them bowed their heads in passing to the newcomer as they made eye contact. It was a curious action, and Bo's gaze moved back to reassess the latest addition to the gathering. He was tall, but not to the height of Dwalin (much to her relief), and broad shouldered. It was almost alarming until his coat was removed and she saw that some of his bulk came from the fur along his shoulders. His boots clung heavily against her floor and mud flaked from them. Bo sighed again; _it will look like a farm in here by the time they leave._

She remained ignored, though, as the newcomer spoke to Gandalf. Bo felt her chest huff a bit more. She was the mistress of this home; she would not be ignored for long. "A mark? How? I painted that door myself a week ago."

"There is a mark." Gandalf interjected meekly. "I put it there, myself."

"Did you, now?" Bo accused him and turned her blue gaze to him. He looked mildly ashamed, but it did practically nothing to appease her disappointment in the defacement of her property. Gandalf cleared his throat and placed his hands in front of him, his head tilted toward the new arrival. "Bo Baggins, if you would allow me to introduce the leader of this company… Thorin Oakenshield."

Bo turned to face the dwarf. His expression was stone, set and rough. It was hard to tell if he was displeased at her appearance, or at Gandalf's introduction. "So…" Thorin began with a step toward her. "This is the hobbit?" His icy blue eyes turned up to the wizard. "Bo Baggins… is a _woman_."

"Who is well within earshot, thank you." Bo interrupted with a clipped tone. A hushed murmur echoed through her home from the other dwarves. No, she did not care what they thought of her speaking to their leader in such a way. This was _her_ home, and to the highest mountain's peak with anyone who would treat her like a child in her home.

Even so, the look that Thorin pinned her with was not unkind, just unwelcoming of her interjection. She stood her ground, but lowered her shoulders. She knew a challenge when she saw one, and her sword was well stashed away in another hallway. "I have noticed." Thorin replied with a deep growl. Bo pulled her lips together tight.

"And have you done much fighting, then?" Thorin questioned roughly. He circled her and it took a jerk of her neck to keep her gaze from following him around. She would not be intimidated. This was her home and she would repeat it to herself as many times as needed. "Axe or sword, aye? Which is her preference?" The last was directed at Gandalf as the dwarf stopped before her once more.

"I am quite the expert at conkers," Bo snapped with her chin lowered and her brow furrowed over her nose. "But if you are truly interested, then it is a _sword_. Better balanced for my form." She answered truthfully. The dwarf stopped and turned to her with an eyebrow raised with distrust. Bo raised her left hand, the last two fingers on her palm crooked.

"Hilt broke, I panicked and punched him." She answered and then stretched her fingers to show that her injury did not hinder her movement, at least, not all that much.

Thorin crossed his arms and smirked. "You look to be more of a maid than a burglar."

_A burglar!_

Bo whipped her head around to Gandalf and the wizard could only shrug, already looking exhausted.

The dwarves had gathered into her dining room. Candles were lit and the room was dim as Thorin was seated at the end of the table, his back to the hall. Bo shuddered midly, _how must he stand it, to have his back to an opening like that? In a stranger's home, no less? _She paused to listen, intrigued by their discussion.

"You are going on quest?" She asked before she could stop her tongue. The room grew quiet for a beat which prompted Gandalf to turn to her.

"Bo, my good girl, would you get us a little more light?"

With a small nod, Bo left from the room and found a few spare candles. She tipped them into the ones that were already lit and returned. Carefully, she placed them out for the wizard and did her best to keep her arm away from the dwarf at the end of her table. A map was stretched out and Bo leaned over gently to view it.

"The Lonely Mountain?" Bo read from the map quietly. "I know of that mountain." She ignored the look half of the dwarves gave her, but not the one that came up from her right side. She glared lightly at Thorin. "I am of the Shire, but I am not ignorant. The Lonely Mountain was the home to Erebor, one of the greatest kingdoms among the dwarves."

"Your mother?" Gandalf asked with a smile.

Bo returned it. "Of course, my mother. How else do you think I ended up this way?"

"Then perhaps this will not take as much time to explain as we originally determined." Balin said with a huff.


	3. A Burglar's Worth

**Chapter 3**

**A Burglar's Worth**

* * *

_Erebor._ To think they were going to attempt to travel all that way, and for what? She listened to them as they sat along her table. One arm folded across her stomach and gripped the opposite side of her blouse. An elbow rested upon her wrist and her hand held one side of her face as she pondered their story. Her crooked fingers smoothed over the scar that came down along her face, an instinctive action she no longer noticed. Now and again, her gaze would flicker back to the table, and she found herself recounting the heads of her visitors.

_Homeless. Wanderers. _

She knew that wasn't completely true, though. They had made homes and communities for themselves in the distant mountains. The Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills came to mind, and again she wondered, _why bother? For gold? Fame?_ To her hobbit-y nature, such an endeavor seemed foolish. They _had_ homes. They had families, why would they risk their lives on the slim chance that the dragon could be dead and they could retake their kingdom. She tapped the scar on the side of her face and sighed.

_And I am to be their burglar? I've been a border patroller for a long while, but a burglar? Hardly._ The idea unnerved her. _Against a dragon?_ What was she to do, then? Slip in and pray to the heavens that she would go unnoticed? Another, heavier sigh; and she rubbed the soft edge of her brow over her eyes. This was pure madness, and in no ways did she see this working out to the best results.

The eldest dwarf was correct, thirteen dwarves would not suffice against a dragon, nor for a venture such as the one they had planned. She shook her but jumped from her ankles as there was a sudden eruption of chatter among them. She turned, annoyed at the display of bad manners. She stepped forward to address them, but Thorin stood first and shouted. They stilled, and one by one, they sat.

"Well," Bo interrupted before Thorin could say more. "I will warn you, one more outburst like that and you should find yourselves with a tail to the door." A few, the youngest of them, appeared to be mindful of her words, but the others tipped their heads to her in disbelief. She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't think my mother hasn't taught me a thing or two about throwing a heavy boot." She replied to the expressions of disbelief. Gandalf chuckled and sucked on his pipe, pleased by her assertion. Thorin was not so charmed, his stone face neutral and he turned back to his kin.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too?" He stopped and glanced at his kindred, and Bo could see some of them turn their gaze away from their un-crowned king. She swallowed, well aware of what type of look that was, having received a few of them from her mother.

"Rumours have begun to spread, the dragon has not been seen for over sixty years." Thorin's voice rumbled through her small dining room and into the hallway. Despite being behind him, she could hear him clearly. His voice could carry in a great hall, that much she could picture.

"Perhaps," Thorin continued, Bo nearly slipping away in thought, "the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance and _take back_ Erebor? _Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!_" She could not understand the last of his words, but the crowd of dwarves rallied.

"You forget!" Balin interrupted, bringing the cheering to a stop. "The front gate is _sealed_. There is no way into the mountain." A moment of sad relief came to Bo, the adventure disappearing from the eyes of the dwarves as soon as the words were said.

"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf interjected with a small amount of smugness, "is not entirely true." Then from his fingers, as if he was the burglar, Gandalf produced a sharp and dark iron key from within his sleeve. Bo peered at it, but Thorin took it up within his fingers. The dwarf held the key like shattered glass and sighed with a breathless exhale.

Bo stepped away from the entrance into her dining room and her fingers once again found her scar. For every moment of relief she found that she would not go along on this adventure, the obstacle was taken down and shattered. She couldn't do this, not now. Her eyes closed with pain as a slow trickle of memories lapped like waves at the back of her mind. _No._

"That's why we need a burglar!"

Immediately, Bo snapped back to the conversation, and she whirled around to find the company staring at her. She felt her cheeks burn under her skin with a flush of embarrassment. For a brief tick of time, she remembered how messy her braided hair was and she nervously reached up and held the end of it.

"And are you?" Her eyes flickered to the redheaded dwarf, Gloin.

Bo raised her chin, "Am I what? An expert? Heavens, I –"

"She said she's an expert!" Oin announced cheerily, much to the amusement of the others who laughed at the outburst. Her cheeks took on a harsher tint of red under her sunburnt cheeks, the heat travelled up to the tips of her pointed ears.

"I'm not a burglar!" Bo said into the laughter, silencing them. "I never have been. The worse I've stolen is food from the local farmers as a little one!" Gandalf grinned at her admission and she felt a roll of defeat come along her shoulders. "Gandalf, please, don't do this! I have no skill with locks, or pickpocketing!"

"But you have one with a blade," Dwalin called into the conversation, his dark eyes on her. She froze, unsure of how to answer him. She swallowed and nodded with a heavy head, her head turned to glance down her hallway, into the darkness.

"A blade," She said softly and brought her gaze back to them. "One that I have retired."

"Aye, and the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves anymore." He concluded with a nod of his head. Bo felt the rise of indignation come from the pit of her stomach and she stepped forward toward him. Thorin leaned to one side, to look at her as she came closer, but Dwalin did not sway in his seat.

"Do _not_ accuse me of uselessness." Bo said in a low voice. Dwalin's brow rose in surprise from her bluntness, but she was near the end of her rope with their manners, their assumptions, and their disregard for her home and patience. "I have nothing to prove to you, or them, I have paid my dues to home and people, so –" A gentle, weathered hand came to the small of her back and she paused.

"My dear girl," Gandalf soothed. "He meant no offense. Please, be calm." A slow inhale entered her lungs, her gaze never wavering from Dwalin's until she held her breath and released it softly. She stepped away and cracked her fingers within her palm.

_Bloody dwarves. _

"Gandalf," Balin said into the silence, "Miss Baggins will be of no –"

"**Enough!**" Gandalf growled, and Bo looked back to see her candles flicker from his presence and a darkness came into her home. "**If I say Bo Baggins is a burglar…**then a burglar she is." Bo exhaled and the tension fled from her body once Gandalf had retaken his seat along the table. The old wizard sighed, "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose."

Gandalf turned to look at her, "And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a _hobbit_ is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." Gandalf came to Thorin, his brow furrowed and his voice gentle. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she has a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself. You _must_ trust me on this."

There was a long moment, Thorin searched Gandalf's face. He exhaled roughly through his nose and nodded to Balin, "Give her the contract."

_No, no, no!_


	4. With Fear, Comes Bravery

**Chapter 4**

**With Fear, Comes Bravery**

* * *

The contract had unfolded in her hands and dropped just a few inches from the floor. Her brow rose over her eyes and she stepped back to hold it out, to inspect the length. _Well then, no cause for concern that something won't be a miss. Best to read it, though._ She did, and paced as she did so. Balin chuckled lightly at the sight of her, "It's just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so forth."

"I saw," Bo said quietly, her brow still furrowed. She turned to look up at Balin. "A plaque of my choosing? A bit hard, no, considering I would be dead?" There was a short pause, but the one named Bofur laughed first, and the others followed with chuckles and snickering. Bo smiled lightly at Balin, "It wouldn't be necessary, in any case." She looked back to the contract.

"Unnecessary?" Balin asked politely, the smallest hint of concern coloring his voice. Bo only answered him with a hum and continued to read. From the corner of her eye, she spied the leader of the troupe leaned toward Gandalf, but she could not hear the whispered conversation. Gandalf pulled away, saddened and nodded.

"One fourteenth of the profit?" Bo asked herself quietly. "Fair… not be liable… lacerations… evisceration… _incineration?_ Dear," She sighed heavily and the contract went slack in her grip for a moment as she peered up at her ceiling.

"Oh, aye." Bofur answered her, "He'll melt the flesh off your bones, lass, in the blink of an eye."

Bo inhaled and held it tightly within her lungs for a moment. "I would imagine so," she replied breathlessly, "he _is_ a dragon." Her hand came up to her forehead and she could feel the heat of anxiety through her skin. She could hear the dwarf continue on, but her ears were ringing and she closed her eyes.

A flash of steel, and then a scream. Her name was being called, but she could not move. She could feel the cold fingers of a blade against her back once more and she shuddered. Panic started to rise within her chest and her breathing hitched.

"Bo!" Gandalf's voice rung through the fog of memories and she snapped back to reality, shaken. The dwarves at the table appeared alarmed; the youngest looked ready to jump the table to seize her, and the older ones gave her curious stares. She turned to Gandalf and felt the small trail of a tear down her cheek.

"I'm…" She choked on her words. "I'm sorry… I'll be alright. I…" She turned away from them and stumbled to her den. "I need to sit for a moment." She soon found herself in the comfort of her armchair and Gandalf was not far behind. He murmured something to Dori, and the dwarf nodded before quickly disappearing. She held her forehead in her hands.

"Bo, my girl…" Gandalf called soothingly. "Are they very bad?"

"Not usually." Bo answered as she knew what he referred to, "I… I cannot do this, Gandalf. I cannot come with you. I have a fear… fear of battles, of fire, of fighting." She shook her head and looked up to him, her eyes bright with tears. "I am not the same lass you knew when she was young. I have no bravery left in me to follow in your adventure. I need to sit… I need to stay here, in the quiet."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long, I fear." Gandalf said as he stood beside her. Dori arrived and she wiped away her tears before accepting his offer of tea. She smiled at him and the dwarf hesitated before he bowed and returned the smile. He left with a nod to Gandalf. She sipped quietly and Gandalf sighed, "I know that after your parents… you deemed it wise to settle down, but I feel as if such a decision may have made your memories darker."

"I cannot grieve on the battlefield. I cannot grieve with a sword in my hand." Her voice was sharp with pain, but Gandalf tried to soothe her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Your mother would not want you locked away with dollies and dishes, Bo Baggins."

Bo gave him a tight look from the corner of her eye. "And this is what I am, Gandalf, a _Baggins._ I became a respectable hobbit, I don't get strange looks anymore when I walk through the market, or jests of my habits while in my garden…"

"You are also a Took," Gandalf added, his gaze firm. She rolled her eyes and shook her head and he held up his hand, "Do you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?"

"Yes," Bo said acquiescingly. "And ponies are real, Gandalf. Just smaller."

"But a horse, Bo!" Gandalf said with a shake of his fist. "And he had no fear riding into battle, saving the day, and inventing a game at the same time."

"Gandalf," She snorted softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You made that up."

"And so what if I truly did?" He countered, now before her and leaning down to her level. "Good stories are worth telling with embellishment, my dear girl, and your story would need none, should you choose to follow it."

"Gandalf," Bo sighed, her eyes turned toward the fire.

"Bo," He returned, "Your life is out there, in the woods and the fields, not in your books or your maps left here at home."

"I almost didn't come back last time, Gandalf." Bo replied fearfully. "And the contract makes it clear; I may not come back at all, even in pieces. I'm sorry, my wizard friend, I cannot do this." Gandalf's gaze did not leave her face for a time, but when he finally looked away, Bo felt the heavy bag of guilt lay upon her back. She stood, ashamed of her decision even though she felt it right, and moved away from the fire and the warmth of her den. The dwarves were gathered around her home, in the halls, and she avoided their eyes.

_I am too afraid._

She closed the door to her bedroom behind her and then with hesitation, locked it. She moved to her bed and dropped into the mattress, her back burning as her muscles uncoiled. A small huff escaped her; _I was wound up for battle. Some habits will never die, it seems._ The night grew darker and she stood to ready for sleep, but paused.

A low rumbling echoed through her home. She moved to her door and with a quiet click, unlocked it and peered out into the empty hall. There was nothing, so she moved to return to her routine, when she heard them. Their voices, deep and resonating like thunder. She swallowed and listened, enraptured.

_If you are capable of helping someone, _her mother's voice scolded her, _so then you must help, in all ways possible. Your strength may just be the tipping stone._

_I have no strength left, mother._ Bo whispered into her memories. _What can one hobbit do for a troupe of dwarves far more skilled than I?_

_Try._


	5. A Small Request

**Chapter 5**

**A Small Request**

* * *

Bo had sat in the darkness of her bedroom until the fire died down and the moon spied in through her windows. She huddled under her blankets and stared at her ceiling, her thoughts a small hurricane within her mind. The Tookish side of her blood tickled under her skin and her fingers curled into the edge of her cover. _I'll try, Mother. One last time, if I must. _She slipped into an uneasy sleep and awoke before the rise of the sun over the hill. There were quiet snores that came from around her house, the den packed with the bodies of the Company. She smiled wanly and moved toward her kitchen.

In the cozy closeness of her kitchen, she giggled against her knuckles and tried to keep herself quiet. A few of the dwarves, it appeared to be Nori and Gloin, were fast asleep upon her table. She gently reached over and tugged Nori's shoulders back and she pulled away a plate from under his cheek. He snorted awake and his hand shot out to grip her wrist. She jumped slightly and waited, frightened.

"Oh, sorry lass," Nori said gently, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist. "Gave me a start, is all."

"So it would seem." Bo said, and tugged at his hold. "Would you kindly?" He released her with a twitch, like a flame burnt his palm. She smiled at him and shook her head. She shifted and shuffled her way around Gloin. "Would you like to help me with breakfast, Master… Nori, was it?"

"Aye, little one." He nodded and stood with a harsh screech of her chair. She winced, but appreciated his eagerness despite the sleep still in his eyes. He stomped over toward her, his heavy boots a clank against the hardwood floors, loud enough for Gloin to pop away from the surface of her table.

"Oh, aye!" Gloin said in surprise and blearily turned his gaze up to Nori. "Who, what?"

"Wake up, you great oaf. Help the lass with breakfast. You are in the way of her fireplace." Nori commanded with humor. Gloin turned his head and found the fireplace and chuckled. He quickly removed himself from Bo's table and she smiled at him also as he walked past her into the den.

Bo fried eggs and cooked sausages. Tomatoes were cut with Nori's help and some biscuits were salvaged from her private stash. She giggled at Nori's raised eyebrow and she shrugged. "A good hobbit always has extra." Nori laughed and patted her heartily on the shoulder. Soon breakfast was up and Bo fretted for a moment on the amount. It seemed enough for her and a handful of relatives, but thirteen dwarves?

"Oi!" Nori called into the den. "Up and to your feet, lads, the mistress has breakfast on the table!" No sooner had Nori called to his friends that Bo found her kitchen entrance stuffed with a few bodies. She laughed and hurriedly moved into the corner of her kitchen as they piled into the room and filled her table.

"You found more food?" Kíli murmured with disbelief. Bo gave him a small smile and tilted her head to one side. Fíli dropped down beside his brother and huffed, "I don't believe she's going to tell us how she acquired more food, brother."

"Leave the mistress alone," Dwalin's rough voice came from the den. Their gazes turned to the elder and Dwalin walked past them with a straight spine. "She's feeding you, be grateful, after the night we've put her through." The other dwarves parted way for him and he took a seat at the end of her table and pulled a plate toward him.

_Well._

That was certainly unexpected. She followed the taller dwarf with a curious gaze, but she remained in her corner, making no move to question him. Kíli and Fíli murmured their thanks and devoured their food like starved children. She felt her brow tick by her scar at the sight and she fought a smile that tugged at her lips.

The last of the Company entered, and Thorin came to stand opposite of her, the table and dwarves separated them. "A kind send-off," Thorin nodded his head to her lightly. "I did not expect to see you up so early in the morning."

"Yes, well." Bo couldn't hide her embarrassment. Her gaze turned away to the window just above her washing bin and she sighed. "I decided to come with you all." Silence flooded the room suddenly; a few forks and knives clinked as they dropped softly from the mouths of their wielders. Bo fidgeted with the attention. "I only have a request."

"About the contract?" Balin interrupted softly. "There's not much that can be changed about that, lass."

Bo shook her head. "No, no. The contract… is fine. I only wish that you give me an hour before we leave. I must amend my will, so that the appropriate relatives will receive their dues." She wouldn't delve into the history she had with her less than savory relatives just down the way, but there were a few cousins that she knew who would benefit from her home.

"Don't plan to come back, lass?" Bofur's voice was soft and curious. His hat made her smile, but now that he was without, the braids that framed his face were charming.

"If I don't come back, best to make sure my… what I have left of a legacy does not become lost in the mayhem and what-if's." Bo returned just as softly. She glanced around her kitchen, faint memories of her mother's voice wafting through her thoughts. "I am my family's only child, the only Baggins left in Bag End."

"There is no one else?" Thorin asked suddenly and his gaze hardened. Bo stuttered for a moment and shook her head. Thorin gruffly murmured, "Then why come at all? Your family name will disappear with you, should you find your end before returning home."

"My name will find its end here just as well," Bo replied, her tone firm. She would not argue with him on going, not when she already made her decision. "I have no spouse, no child of my own, and no heir apparent. I am, and shall be regardless of the quest, the only Baggins until the end of my days."

The mood turned somber at her explanation and some of the dwarves shared heavy looks between themselves. Bombour, the more robust one, shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Bofur next to him cast him with a look to steady the movement. Bo kept her gaze upon Thorin and for a moment, it appeared in his eyes; he understood. He nodded to her and stepped out of the entrance with a hand held out behind him.

She quickly escaped the kitchen.

* * *

It took her a little longer than an hour to set about fixing her will. Over and over she checked it, to make sure the home would be left in the best of hands. She heard footsteps behind her, soft and solid. Her ears flickered at their tips gently and she glanced over her shoulder. She didn't see his face, but she needn't to, the long, white beard was enough to know.

"Ready, lass?" Balin asked. Bo hesitated for a heart's beat and then nodded. She turned and stood, rolling the paper up in her hands. She placed it on top of her pack beside her. The poor thing looked close to bursting with all the supplies she had placed in it. She took a step toward the dwarf, then stopped, her blue gaze on him.

"Will you be my witness?" Bo politely whispered. "I need two, and Gandalf has agreed to be the first."

Balin rocked on his heels slightly in surprise. "Aye, lass. I can do that for you, but… why? Does not a witness need to be someone who can be trusted to account for your affairs?"

"Yes." Bo answered readily and with a sigh. "But any other family that I may trust is in Brandybuck, or further. I have not the time to send them a summons, and Old Took – I cannot bother him with this, he will see to it that I remain here."

"Old Took?" Balin asked with a huff of laughter. "And what is that?"

"Thrain of the Shire. Old Took resides over Tookborough and they answer to him, out of respect or love, one could say. He's a relative of mine." Bo replied with a short tone and shuffled past Balin with her pack in one hand. Balin watched her go and frowned thoughtfully.

"An authority for your people?" Balin followed her, his question almost missed.

"We are not lawless." Bo answered with a soft snort. She moved down her halls with a familiarity that Balin could not predict and he was nearly lost among the turns she took. "Should any have a dispute that we cannot settle ourselves, we seek Old Took, the Mayor of Michel Delving in the White Downs, or the Master of Buckland. They are the authority figures within our lands. Old Took, though, is a relative some generations removed."

"A relative, you say?" Balin inquired with clear curiosity. "My, there is more to you than Gandalf may have shared." More and more of the young thing before him became apparent, but Bo was glad to see that he held in his curiosity at her connections. She slowed as she came down a faraway hall, dark with only a candle or two to light it.

Bo stopped by a storage closet and sighed. "Perhaps… a bit more than just that." Within the closet was a cloth draped over a small set of leather armor. She pulled it out and ignored Balin's raised eyebrows. Carefully and swiftly, with practiced ease, she brought the leather down from the mounts and hooked them onto her body. The leather came across her chest and she tightened it, the arm braces, the leg covers, thigh covers. Capable of moving quickly, but at least she would be protected.

She shouldered her pack and turned to Balin.

He grinned. "Well, shall we?"

The rest of the Company had waited outside. The ponies crowded the lane and trailed down the walkway, and a few of the passing hobbits on the lower roads stared as they walked past the group. A chuckle came from within the group, "Well look it there, lads. The little mistress has herself some protection!" Bofur's voice sounded happy at the little detail.

Bo rolled her eyes. "Of course I do, I was a border patroller for some time before you lot came around. I've… left the Shire a few times." She hefted her pack onto her shoulders and hustled her way through the crowd and past the ponies. The others followed, but Fíli and Kíli found their way to her side.

"A border patroller, what's that?" Kíli asked while he trotted next to her. She slowed once she realized that she was determinately leading a march down to the Bagshot homes.

"… a person who patrols the borders?" Bo couldn't help but answer with a laugh. Kíli frowned while Fíli snickered into his shoulder, his gaze turned away from his younger brother. She took pity on the young dwarf. "After the Fell Winter back in 2911, I took up arms and armor to protect my people."

"Fell Winter?"

"What happened?"

"Was it very bad?"

"What did you fight?"

"Lads!" Bofur interrupted and artfully stepped in between them and Bo, to keep them at bay. Bo sighed in relief; the bombardment of questions had taken her off her guard. Bofur placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and continued to move her forward, further away from the inquiring youngsters. "Leave the little mistress be, would you? Poor creature, drown her in your insatiable questioning."

The boys looked appropriately chastened and quietened in their march behind her. Bofur remained close to her side and offered her a smile when she looked up to him and mouthed a silent thank you for his interference. He only nodded his head and the troupe came along behind them. Soon, the home she was looking for appeared in her line of sight and she made a quick shot for the gate before the hobbit hole.

"Miss Baggins!" A little voice called out to her. Bo could not stop the grin that spread across her scarred face and as the gate flew open, she dropped to a knee and giggled along with the little hobbit now in her arms.

"Hamfast!" Bo smiled, "Up so early! What made you rise with the sun today, little one?"

Hamfast turned sour. "Papa. He said I was to learn gardening some more today. I –" His little voice cut short and he practically dove into her slender shoulder once his gaze had come up to the dwarves behind her. Bo chuckled and patted the top of his head gently.

"Hamfast," Bo said softly to the young child, "Could you find your papa for me? I must speak to him, it is urgent." No sooner had she said the words when Hamfast nodded with a jerk and turned to fly back into his hobbit home. Balin and Gandalf moved forward and waited; now they understood why they had stopped.

Hobson came with a stumble over his entrance, Hamfast held tight to his father's fingers. Bo smiled gently and hoped that her relaxed greeting would put Hobson at ease with the presence of so many at his front gate. Hobson brought down his hat and bowed to her slightly, surprise clear on his face.

"Mistress Baggins?" Hobson inquired softly. "Hamfast came in with such a fright…"

"I'm so sorry, my friend. It was my fault. I should have asked my companions to wait further along the hill." Bo replied with a small tilt of her chin down to her chest. She straightened and made way for Balin and Gandalf. "There is… something I would like to discuss with you, if you would be so kind as to give me a spare moment of your morning, old friend."

"For you, Mistress," Hobson smiled weakly, his eyes flickered among the dwarves behind her, "I have all the time in the world."

* * *

**Notes: **_I have noticed now that the story seems to have picked up a few followers and favorites, and for that, I'm thankful. It appears that you enjoy my take on a female Bilbo, and really, I'm relieved there wasn't a round of dislike from my readers. I was worried, since this has been done many times before._

_I appreciate the reviews. I have a better idea now (many thanks to Figs) of what my audience may be looking for, as well as where I may be amiss with my writing. Now that I have gotten past the introductory part of the story, I can really begin to color it as I like._

_Thank you all. Please keep the reviews coming, they are very helpful and encouraging. _


	6. A Spirited Walk

**Chapter 6**

**A Spirited Walk**

* * *

The home belonging to Hobson and his family was along the same hill as that of Bo, but the hole was smaller, and didn't delve as deeply as Bag End. As such, her request had to be done outside, in Hobson's lush garden. Gandalf read out her will to Hobson, and Bo turned her gaze to the garden and little Hamfast who rolled in the dirt happily (now that his father was distracted). She smiled lightly at Hobson's gasp, the Sackville-Baggins earning nothing of her home or valuables. As the will was read, Balin made careful work of the contract as he sat beside Bo, scratching out words and took his quill to the pronouns. With the appropriate words marked, initialed, and agreed upon (with a nod of her head, as she had been reading over his shoulder), the paper work was finished.

"Is this to be true, Miss Baggins?" Hobson's asked, his worried gaze turned from Gandalf, who held the will up to read, and came to her.

Bo nodded. "Yes. Bag End shall be in your care, keys and all, for two years. Should I not return at that point, my home and all the belongings there in will be passed along to my nearest cousin who has the oldest heir. The Sackvilles have no claim now, until a year after the first two, should no family member otherwise be eligible. Agreed, Mister Gamgee?"

Hobson nodded tightly. "Aye, missus. Agreed. I'll sign for you, and send the will to Old Took." Bo smiled and nodded, the will was signed by both Gandalf and Balin, before Hobson nervously signed his name in along the bottom. He rolled the parchment up and safely tucked it into his arm. "Come, Hamfast. Let's find your mother. Say goodbye to Miss Baggins!"

Hamfast stopped dead in his adventuring and turned to Bo, his little legs carried him toward her heavily. His face was sour and his brow dropped over his eyes as he peeked up at her through his curls. "Must you really go, Miss Baggins?"

"I'm afraid so, little one." Bo brushed his hair lightly. She knew that normally a formal distance would need to be kept between her and the other, less fortunate hobbits, but the idea of never coming home again frightened her. The curls upon Hamfast's head, the garden, and the sound of the Shire would be drilled into her thoughts. She smiled encouragingly, "But I shall try and return as soon as I can, child."

"Please do." Hamfast said with a pout. She patted his head once more, her fingers through his curls, and turned around to leave. The little hobbit waved to her back and she only knew this as Bifur and Bofur both raised their hands to wave back. Gandalf lead them away and Bo stayed behind for the longest moment she could.

Her blood chilled at the thought of never coming home.

* * *

"You've ridden a pony, lass?" Gloin's tone was surprised, but Bo couldn't blame him. When her size was considered, and the fact that most of the hobbits in the Shire avoided ridden transport, it was clear why he asked. Bo had tossed her pack onto the backside of Myrtle; the mare threw her head back and snorted as she waited.

"Yes." Bo grunted softly and hooked her foot into the stirrup. A large hand came into her vision over her saddle and she glanced up. Dwalin's stern face stared back at her and his fingers curled slightly, his brow ticked. She grinned and took his hand and with one fluid pull, he had her over and up onto the saddle. "Though, the last time I was on a pony, my legs felt younger."

"If you don't mind me asking, mistress, but how old _are_ you?" Bofur inquired politely as he pulled up beside her with his own pony. Bo rolled her shoulders and shifted on the saddle; Myrtle snorted gratefully and picked up the pace along with the others.

"Fifty." She replied with a grin tossed over her shoulder at Bofur. "Why?" Bo nearly tumbled off Myrtle's backside in mirth as no fewer than six heads turned to her in shock. She bit the inside of her cheek and held her tongue for she knew full well what was about to come.

"You're – then you're not more than a child!" Called Fíli, alarmed by the information.

Kíli nodded his head, his expression stern. "Why would Gandalf not tell us this?"

"Perhaps it was due to the fact that _hobbits_ come of age at three and thirty years, young lords!" Gandalf cried from the front of their progression. Bo snickered into her palm as Fíli shot an angry look at Gandalf's back, but said nothing on his intrusion. Bo bowed her head lightly to them.

"He is right. I came into my adulthood at the age of thirty-three years. Now fifty, I am considered middle-aged for a hobbit." Bo explained patiently and she greatly enjoyed the wide-eyed expressions she received.

"Middle-aged!" Cried Fíli, seemingly offended.

"You hardly look as old as us! We believed you to be around our years." Kíli interjected sourly, his shoulders stiff from the blow of knowledge. Her head tilted to the left, her scar scrunched on the side of her face with her curiosity.

"How old are _you_, then?" Bo countered with a point of her chin. Kíli and Fíli shared a look and not for the first time, Bo watched as a conversation passed between them. It was noiseless, save for the occasional whisper that wasn't even a word that passed their lips, and a blink of their eyes. _Brothers, definitely._ Bo smiled at the sight.

"I'm two and eighty." Fíli answered first, his eyes dragged away from his brother's face.

Kíli sighed. "And I am the youngest of the Company at seven and seventy."

Bo blinked.

"They're the _children_ of this group. We almost denied their request to come along with us." Balin came up from behind Bo and passed them, his commentary brief and succinct, if not teasing. She watched as he and his pony trotted on, moving to the front of the line. Bo snorted softly and chuckled and her gaze returned to the brothers.

"So that leaves the matter, by age you are my seniors," Bo smirked. "But by maturity, you're just as bad as Hamfast."

"We beg your pardon!"

The Company was soon out of the twisting and turning dirt paths of Hobbiton and into the main road not long into the morning. Bo pulled up her hood and tucked her braid into it. Her cloak was light, a muddy brown with a green hood. It shadowed her forehead nicely and unless someone actively leaned over to peer under it, her face was hidden. Her blade was secured against Mytle's side, close to be at hand for Bo, and glinted under her bedroll.

"Here, lass." Bofur broke into the silence, coming along beside her. "Tell us a story. How did you come by that sword?"

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you're asking." Bo smiled at him with her head raised enough to allow him a glimpse of her face. "It was my mother's. It is an elvish blade from Rivendell, one of which was gifted to her by a troupe of passing elves who traded the blade for some of her pottery. Odd as it sounds."

The dwarves seemed to reel back from her and her pony at the discovery of the blade's origins. She raised a brow and looked about her, but only Gandalf was ready with an explanation. "The dwarves and elves have a long standing history of… _discontent,_ with each other, my dear."

"Discontent, he says." Dwalin muttered from in front, beside Thorin. "Well deserved avoidance, says I."

"Whhhy…" Bo dragged out, a little wary of voicing her question. "Is that? What happened?" This was where the dwarves apparently drew their line, as no one answered her, not even the wizard. She sighed and shrugged a lone shoulder. _In due time, I suppose. We are strangers to each other. _

"And you know how to wield it, yes?" Bofur continued on, his cheerfulness sincere, but a clear avoidance to the subject at hand.

"Yes, with mild accuracy." Bo admitted softly. "I have an instinct for it that isn't common in hobbits. Our sight is good, and we're better suited as archers, if the need presents itself. Though," she hesitated and tugged at the edge of her hood, "… I was never formally trained."

"And yet you were given a blade?" Nori said skeptically from the back of the line.

Bo straightened her back as a flare of pain laced her muscles, forcing them to constrict. She knew there was no wound, but she felt it. Some never healed, no matter the amount of hands who tried. She kept her gaze forward, but did not answer. _Necessity does not understand patience. Sometimes skill must be learned at a time when there is no time to spare._ But she would not say those words; she would not display her wound for all to see.

_In due time, I suppose._

"Mistress?" Bofur inquired gently.

"It's a long story." Bo finally answered. "A handful of years back… goodness, I think I was about twenty or twenty-one years old… and the Shire suffered a harsh winter." The heels of her hands rested on the horn of her saddle and her gaze strayed to her right. Fili and Kili had come up along beside her, their faces stern. There was a mild chatter at the front of the line, Balin and Thorin held a soft conversation with each other.

"In later years, we called it the Fell Winter of 2911. So bad was the cold that the river that defended us from the woods had frozen over." She shifted in her saddle and Myrtle nickered with annoyance. "My family and I had been traveling home, from Buckland… but in order to do so, one must cross the Brandywine River." Bo nervously reached up and scratched at her scar along the left side of her face. Bofur's eyes traveled to it and a frown was shared between him and the princes, unnoticed by the hobbit.

"We were nearly to one of the bridge crossings, when there was a warning call from the dark forest." Bo turned to Bofur and his gaze snapped to her face and he nodded for her to continue. "My mother recognized it as a horn that belonged to a patrolman, Rangers who cared for our borders and kept us safe." Bo's blue gaze drifted away and her words sounded faded to her ears.

* * *

"_Mother!" Bo cried from the other side of the bridge, her parents still on the other side of the Brandywine. Bungo grabbed his wife's hand and dragged her over the bridge and soon snagged Bo's shoulder and shoved both women in front, their traveling bags at their feet._

"_Run! Don't dally! There is evil coming, run, I say!" Bungo commanded with a forceful tone. Bo shuddered in fear, having never heard her father's voice go higher than a polite cough. Belladonna growled low in her throat, torn between her thoughts. She took Bo's hand, grabbed their bags, and they bolted down the path._

"_Where are we going? We cannot leave father!" Bo cried and glanced back through her curls, but the figure of her father was gone._

"_Your father is going back to warn the others, they will be better prepared for what comes!" Belladonna shushed her and continued to pull her down the path. They ran and both were panting and sweating by the time they arrived near an inn miles before Hobbiton proper. Belladonna burst in, the doorknob slipped from her hand due to its height and both women tumbled into the warmth of the inn._

"_Here now!" The innkeeper called. "There's no cause to barge into –"_

"_There is no time!" Belladonna snapped at the innkeeper. Bo gasped in surprise, for it was rare that her mother lost her patience to have no time for manners. Belladonna stepped up to the counter where the innkeeper loomed over to peer at her. "There is a horn calling in the distance, the Brandywine is frozen, you must be prepared."_

"_Oh, aye, I heard it, lass." The innkeeper said kindly. "Half my clients rose and left as if a fire was set upon them at the sound of the call. We'll be safe now that they are out, duty calling."_

"_You cannot trust that will be enough. There have been shadows in the forest, surely you've heard." Belladonna argued, but the innkeeper waved his hand at her with a murmur of placating words. Belladonna rose to her full height and turned toward the door, her shoulders squared._

"_Mother?" Bo called with her hands tight around their traveling bag. Belladonna stopped and glanced at the door with a hard gaze. She softened and her shoulders slumped before she turned back to Bo. She stepped to her daughter and placed her hands upon Bo's shoulders._

"_We'll be safe here." Belladonna said gently, but Bo could see her mother did not believe her words. "Come." Belladonna did her best to smile and cast the weak turn of her lips to the innkeeper and asked for a room. Not one to turn away a patron, the innkeeper soon found them a room sized for a hobbit. _

_Bo could see the stiff movements of her mother's body in the shadows of their lit candles. Nervously, her mother would glance out through the windows and search, her eyes flickered one way and then another before pausing out into the darkness of the road. They moved the beds together and as Bo began to dress for bed, her mother stopped her._

"_Don't," Belladonna warned. "We do not know how this night will go… best to keep your clothes on and…"_

"_Mother, you're frightening me." Bo whispered. "Surely the Rangers are more than capable of stopping whatever it is that you believe may come down from the forest."_

"_Child." Belladonna's voice cracked with her heavy tone. "You… My darling, you do not know what lies beyond those borders. Hobbiton is safe, for we are hidden well behind many layers of roads and hills, but this place…"_

_A chill went up Bo's spine as her mother's hands gripped her shoulders tighter._

"_There is always a chance something may slip through. No net is perfect." Belladonna moved to their traveling bag and shuffled aside their clothing and trinkets. From within the depths of the bag, Belladonna removed a sheath and held it out to Bo, who shook her head vehemently in silent protest._

"_Take it," Belladonna's hands shook as she held it out._

"_I shan't," Bo whispered, her hands came up to her face and she felt her vision blur with unshed tears. "I don't know how to use one! I'll stab myself before hurting anything else!"_

"_You must take it!" Belladonna stood and pressed the sheath and sword into Bo's shaking hands. "I will not always be around to protect you, and if we are separated…"_

"_Don't say that!"_

"_Shh," Belladonna reached up and held her daughter's face gently. Her fingers curled into Bo's hair and tugged at a slender strand. "Should it happen… swing, and swing hard, daughter."_

A heavy hand came down onto her shoulder and Bo choked on a strangled gasp, her hand down on the hilt of her blade, but a foot stepped on her fingers to stop her from drawing the weapon. Bo blinked, her gaze colored with a cloud that disappeared as rapidly as she could blink. She turned, her hood coming away from her head and she followed the arm to find Gandalf at the end of it.

"Breath, my girl." Gandalf commanded warmly. Almost immediately, Bo inhaled and her lungs burned from the sensation. _Was I holding my breath? For how long?_ She shuddered and her head whipped around to found Bofur's foot moving away from her fingers on the hilt of her sword. Her limbs were shards of ice and she could hear her joints crack under her skin from the stiffness.

"Easy lass, I meant no harm." The dwarf answered softly upon meeting her gaze. "Just cannot have you take a swing at our wizard, can we."

"I… I would never," Bo said meekly, her voice rough. She turned to Gandalf and bowed her head. "I'm – I would _never_…"

"I know, child." Gandalf smiled and reached over to adjust her hood behind her head. "Come; let us talk of happier times." With a small shift of his staff along his side, Gandalf dove into a story of a time when his fire-crackers had set fire to not one, but _ten_ chicken huts, much to the dismay of the farmers he had been visiting.

Bo reached over and tugged her cloak tighter against her shoulders and closed her eyes against the flickering stares of the Company around her.

_In due time._

* * *

**Notes: A small glance into Bo's life. Not very long, context-wise, but hopefully the insight will help. Reviews are always appreciated!**


	7. To Share One's Memories

**Chapter 7**

To Share One's Memories

* * *

It took them nearly the whole day to leave the borders of the Shire. It was almost comical to Bo, who answered Ori, Fili, and Kili's inquiry from time to time of 'are we out yet?' She had taken the time to explain the boundaries of the land, how far the Shire actually stretched (and not just Hobbiton), as well as Tuckborough and Buckland. Fili had approached the subject with a critical eye, whereas his younger brother was merely content to question her on the issues that surrounded the Shire.

"It's not a very well-defended area, that's all I mean." Kili reiterated as he threw his bedroll down across the floor. He kicked his bag next to the head of his roll and turned to Bo with a hand below his hip. The rest of the camp had spread out and surrounded their fire with Bombur happily cooking away.

"It really wasn't chosen for its defense, Master Kili." Bo replied with her own bedroll already set as she sat upon it. "When we came down from the mountains centuries ago, theoretical history speculates that we chose that land for its fertile soil." Bifur trudged past her, his arms jerkily jabbing at his side as he went. Bo watched him with a bemused look, but turned at the sound of Ori's voice.

"From what mountains?" Ori asked with his journal open in his lap. Dori had already taken to his bedroll, his hands full with a cloth and string. _Is he sewing?_ Bo wondered at the sight.

"We traveled west from the Misty Mountains, or so the Rangers have told me." Bo replied with her attention back to the youngest Ri brother. She shrugged her shoulders. "It's said that we traveled down to escape the dangers of Mirkwood and avoid the Easterlings."

"And you trust the word of these Rangers?" Fili asked, his brow furrowed. "What's to say they're not lying?"

"How would I know? I'm only fifty. Rangers, or some of them, are well past a hundred or so." Bo smiled gently at the young prince. "In any case, history is written by the victors and all stories turned to legends eventually."

"Horse dung," Oin interrupted with a heavy cough. "A well-kept history survives even the test of time. Dwarrow history is like the strength of a mountain, everlasting." Gloin and Balin nodded their heads in agreement, though a few of the others around the camp were silent as they dug into their meal. Bo held up a hand, releasing the argument.

Bofur stepped by her bedroll and held out a bowl for her. She accepted with a smile and nod, but placed the bowl in her lap, momentarily forgotten. Bofur sat next to her, while the three youngest were to her left. Behind her sat Dwalin and not far off to his left was Thorin, hidden away in the growing shadows of the trees.

"I find it strange," Bofur said after a moment, "that so little is known about Hobbits, and yet you seem to have so much to tell."

"There isn't much, really." Bo answered with a spoon lax in her left hand. She frowned and switched to her right, mindful of her fingers. Bofur's gaze flickered to her hand, but he said nothing. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ori look to ask her, but a swift kick from Dwalin sent a rock into his back and caused him to clamp his mouth shut.

_Thank you._

"When you think about it…" Bo continued on as if she had missed the exchange. "We're simple folk. Good food, a good home… there isn't much more that we need. Unfortunately, I do believe that my kin have grown overly soft."

"What, do you mean around the middle?" Nori teased from the other side of the campfire. Bofur took a flick of his spoon and sent a rock sailing into the grinning thief's face, but as he dodged the project tile, Dori clapped a hand along the back of his head. Gloin and Bombur laughed at the sight of a fussing Nori desperately trying to keep his braids in place.

Bo chuckled. "That, as well. But no, what I mean… you've seen us. It's rare for a hobbit to have anything more dangerous than sheers or a pitch folk. The very idea that I have a sword in my possession is cause for gossip."

"Better to be able to defend yourself than to be left wishing you could." Dwalin grumbled from behind her. Bo raised a finger and nodded in agreement, silent as she was with a spoonful of stew in her mouth. "It's almost unnerving to walk through your village, mistress, and not even see an armed patrol, merely a gentle-folk with a jug of ale and a lantern."

"Ah, that." Bo nearly spat up her stew with her snickers. "Yes, well, we have no need for it. As I mentioned, the Rangers have kept us safe for centuries. For so long, in fact, that most of the hobbits even forget that they are there."

"Begging your pardon, mistress," Fili entered sternly, "but that's quite rude to forget one's gratefulness at being defended, and with no cause for repayment or tribute."

"I didn't say we were the brightest bunch, now did I." Bo snorted softly. "But the Rangers ask for nothing, nor do they come into our lands unless it is under great need."

"I did see a few odd looks from the Men when we stopped at the inn on the way." Bombur burped and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Bo winced at the sight, but snickered when Bifur tapped Bombur's cheek harshly with an edge of a cloth square.

"I would not be surprised. They hardly see hobbits beyond Bree. We don't travel far." Bo finished her soup and then stood to walk toward the edge of the camp, her voice carried over the gentle breeze. "We're farmers, not traders. I have seen a few dwarves, Men, and Elves come through to trade with the people of the Blue Mountains, but aside from that." Bo shrugged as she cleaned out her bowl with a small cup of water from the nearby bucket.

"And you, mistress?" Bofur asked gently. "You mentioned that you had left the Shire a few times before?" Bo could hear it in his tone of voice, his uncertainty at whether such a question was safe to ask. She returned to her bedroll after leaving her clean bowl with Bombur and gave Bofur a smile.

"I have, after that winter, I… became restless, you could say." Bo answered softly once her legs were folded neatly to one side. "Fighting isn't in a hobbit's nature, but my mother said that there was a bit more Took in me than most, much to my father's worry."

"Battle blood," Dwalin growled from behind. "Some of the dwarflings get it when they have their practice for battle. A restlessness that makes them fierce." He shifted and Bo could feel her muscles spark with movement for just a moment, the nervousness of having someone at her back with axes overcoming her sense to stay still. Again, she caught a small glimpse of Bofur as his eyes flickered to her, watching and waiting for her movements.

"I do not doubt that is the case with dwarves… or," She turned to Dwalin, her scar scrunched along her face, "What was it that you called a collection of dwarves? Dwarrows?" Dwalin nodded to her silently, his face seemingly forever stern and stone carved.

"Aye, lass." Balin said as he came alongside his brother to rest upon his bedroll. "It's the appropriate word to use for us. The other folk don't know it, or chose to ignore it."

"I understand," Bo replied, "Must be like when the Big Folk call us Halfings…" She lulled her head from one side to another, her gaze to the fire and her voice gentle. "It's not necessarily offensive, per say, but one hardly enjoys being referenced as half of something, for our worth or otherwise."

"But I can see it," Kili wondered lightly just beyond her left side. "Hobbits don't fight, nor do they have anything to be considered a threat, why –" A swift elbow from Fili stopped his brother with a grunt. Kili gave Bo a wincing, apologetic look.

"It's quite right, you know." Bo amended as she stretched her back out along her bedroll. "We're hardly a threat, I would venture even further to say we wouldn't stand a chance against anyone in a true fight." There was a heavy silence that blanketed the camp and after a while, Bifur made a great show of yanking his bedroll open and flopped against the ground, snoring loudly.

Bo chuckled, and the rest soon followed his lead.

0o0

The next morning Bo rose before the dawn peeked over the horizon. Bofur snored loudly beside her and the brothers just beyond him. Ori was to her left and was curled tightly into his knitted clothing and blanket. The sight made her smile and she sat up quietly. Dwalin grunted behind her and she stuttered in her movement. The dwarf was wide awake, it appeared, and fixed a glare at her before he continued with his whetstone along the edge of his axe.

Bo shuffled around the sleeping company and off the edge of the camp to stretch. Bifur sat against a tree and in his hands was a small piece of wood. The knife was in the other and he gently carved into the piece with steady hands. Bo finished her stretching and quietly padded over to him. She knelt and then folded her legs under her bottom, her hands resting in her lap.

Bifur murmured something in Khuzdul and shook the wooden piece at her, his eyes never leaving his knife or his hands.

Bo frowned, "For the last few days, I've noticed you only speak in your language… may I ask, have you always been that way?" His hands paused and he glanced up at her and not for the first time did Bo find herself at the end of a hard stare. She swallowed but held her hands firm against her fidget. The dwarf huffed and again, muttered something and his hand reached up and tapped the axe in his head.

"Your injury caused it?" She confirmed. At his nod, she continued, "Can you only communicate in… in your language?"Bifur stared at her and Bo realized how stupid her comment sounded. She shook her head and waved her hand with crooked fingers, "No, no. I'm sorry, I meant… can you only speak and _write_, in Khuzdul? Or are you capable of writing in Westron?"

There was a pause and then Bifur was a flurry of limbs as he moved closer to her and cleared the ground before them. Bo rolled back on her legs and they flexed out beside her and Bifur hastily scribbled something into the dirt with his thick fingers. Bo held her braid away from her face and leaned over to view his mangled lettering.

"That's strange, indeed." She said and Bifur looked up at her, his brow up to his hairline in silent inquiry. Bo pursed her lips and flashed a look to him before pointing to his scribbled wording. "Half of it does appear to be in Westron, I know these letters… but it seems that you… you start to revert back to Khuzdul, or what I assume is your language, as I do not know these letters…" She wasn't even sure they could be called letters, as they were more scratches than connected lettering.

Angrily, Bifur took his hands and motioned something, but only until the last of it did she realize he was trying to tell her something through the use of his hands. "Oh… oh! You, you can speak with your hands, like hand signals?" Bifur nodded and again his hands made the same gesture. Bo couldn't recognize the signals and sighed sadly.

"What are you trying to tell me, precisely?" Bo said quietly. Bifur chortled brightly and pointed a finger to something behind her, over her shoulder. She turned and nearly jumped out of her skin to find a grinning Bofur behind her. A hand flew to her heart and she gasped which only caused her companions to snicker.

"Oh, hilarious." Bo huffed, and then grinned at Bofur and Bifur, pleased at least to see the amusement. "Scare a poor lass right through her bones, you do."

"No harm meant to ya, mistress." Bofur answered and hunched down beside her. "But, to answer your question," Bofur slowly and carefully repeated Bifur's earlier gesture, and then tapped his chest with the end of his thumb. "Bifur was giving you my name. Or rather, telling ya I was behind you."

"Oh," Bo exhaled, surprised. "Oh, well, then I suppose it's no one's fault save my own for being so startled, is it?"

Bofur grinned. "Well, granted, you _didn't_ know what he was trying to tell you, but I suppose you'll get accustomed to our strange ways." Bofur made to stand with a pat of his knee, but Bo reached out and placed her fingers just at the edge of his coat's cuff. Almost instantly, the dwarf went still and Bo frowned at the sudden reaction, but placed it out of mind for the moment.

"Wait," Bo said quietly. She turned her frown up to Bofur, and then glanced to Bifur for a brief second. "Isn't it against your culture to teach an outsider these… hand signals?" Bofur shared a look with Bifur, but the older dwarf muttered something harshly and seemed to make a crude gesture with his hand. Bofur snickered and shrugged.

"True enough and we weren't going to teach you any of it, which would be dangerous, indeed." Bofur said softly, a sad smile on his face. Bifur stilled and became quieter, his attention back to the wooden piece that laid forgotten on the ground beside him. Bofur murmured something to him in Khuzdul and then patted his shoulder before moving back to the waking camp. Bo turned her blue gaze from Bofur's retreating back to Bifur's avoidant gaze.

_Are you lonely?_ She wanted to ask, but she would not insult him so. Instead, she moved closer to him and with her legs once again folded under her, she leaned over to catch his gaze. He glanced at her from under his heavy brow and slowly, she signaled with her own hands. Bifur looked up at her, surprised, but she continued and spoke as she signed for him.

"The Rangers taught me, a common language, with their hands." She said softly, each word given a shape with her hands and a pause so that he could follow, and perhaps even learn. "They used it, when speaking was, too dangerous." Then, with her crooked fingers, she pressed the first three to her chest and then gently moved to touch them just at his beard, not quite to his chest.

"I would like to teach you," She whispered for him. "So that we may speak, as friends?" Bifur stared, and stared for a long while, his dark eyes searched her face and she did her best to keep her smile upon her face despite the anxiety that grew within her throat. _Did I go too far? Perhaps this was too personal? Too close? I am still just an outsider._ She felt another come up behind her and her eyes flickered down to the boots, then back up to Bofur who returned. His face was somber, but he answered her.

"That would be mighty generous of you, mistress. He'll accept."

0o0

The rest of the camp arose with a call from Thorin. Some were already awake and packed (Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, and Thorin) while others had dozed for a bit and watched as the sun came up over the hills. Bo made her way through the camp and found Gandalf down by one side, smoking his pipe quietly.

"You seem to be making friends, my girl." Gandalf said quietly with a small puff from his pipe. Bo shuffled up beside him and onto the rock he found as a perch. She remained quiet for a moment and adjusted her scarf around her neck. The trousers she wore were warm and plain, her coat tucked tightly around her.

"I would hardly call teaching one dwarf a new sign language as friendship, Gandalf." Bo murmured through a yawn. "It was just… disheartening, to be within the same company, but never speak a word to each other."

"You'll find that some within this company will never say more than a handful of words to you in a day, Miss Baggins." Gandalf replied with a raised brow. The camp was being dismantled behind them, bedrolls were packed away, bags tightened, the ponies saddled for the march ahead of them. Bo sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"True, but it doesn't hurt to try. I just found it peculiar…"

"And what was that?" Gandalf asked when she did not continue. Bo held her hands out in front of her and with a rolling motion of leaves in a breeze, curled her fingers down into her palms until the crooked ones could not.

"He was making something, something small, with a wooden stub he had found." Bo released her fingers and rubbed her palms together. "I thought at first it would be something like another pipe, or maybe a new weapon of some sort… but then he made," and with a short flick of her hand and a gesture, she signed for Gandalf. The wizard puffed his pipe and smiled indulgently to her.

"It's a toy," Bo explained, "and at first I believed we had confused the signal, but he corrected me. A _toy_. What warrior makes toys, Gandalf?"

"They were much like you, Miss Baggins." Gandalf answered with a small nod of his head. He pulled the pipe away from his mouth and coughed. "Some of them here were not battle-hardened, nor veterans of the blade. Many, like you, were forced into a situation that no skill other than that with a blade could save them." At this, Bo glanced up and around at the company. They were all on their feet now, and the ponies nearly ready after a small, cold breakfast. A spear, axes, bow, swords, and knives were littered among the armored companions and Bo felt a shudder run through her body.

"Toymakers, bakers, miners, and jewelers; some were criminals, and others have found no place for themselves just yet." Gandalf said. Her gaze flickered to Ori, the young dwarf with a talented hand for words and portraits, a skill of his she had only seen last night. She turned her gaze up to Gandalf and he gave her a gentle sigh. "But unlike you, my girl, they had no home to return to, no one to calm them during the terror, for their nightmare has never ended."

"Oh, please don't say that." Bo whispered painfully. "I know of some dwarrows who have made a home for themselves in the Blue Mountains, surely they could have found peace there?"

"Peace?" Gandalf interjected with a sharp word. Bo hushed and turned her chin down, her gaze cast off into the grass. "Are they at peace? Are _you_, my girl? If you know that which gives darkness to your terrors exists, would _you_ be at peace?"

"… perhaps that was a stupid thing to ask."

"Perhaps it was."

Bo slipped away from the quietly fuming wizard and found Myrtle. She raised her foot and just as the first time, a hand appeared over her saddle. She spared a look and found Dwalin along the other side of her pony, but without a word she took his hand and he pulled her up and over. She flashed him a grateful smile and he huffed before moving on to find his own mount. _So strange, that dwarf._ Bo shook her head and tugged on Myrtle's reigns and the pony slipped into a trot along with the others.

Their traveling was at a steady pace, fast enough that the ponies huffed and steamed with heat and sweat by the end of the day. The land they had crossed through was one of vague familiarity to Bo, some of the hills and forest ones she had seen with the Rangers when they allowed her to travel out with them. Her head would turn one way and another as she tried to place where she was and how far from the Shire.

Soon, though, the hills were unfamiliar to her and the forests were darker. She relaxed away from Gandalf's side and found her way to Bifur. Bofur came along beside her and not long after, they had a broken conversation going among the three of them. It was a slow process, but they managed their hellos and minor items like swords and tools. She even got a thank you from him, which warmed her inexplicably and brought a smile to her face.

Bo wasn't sure whether the dwarves had forgotten she was among their troupe or if they had grown accustomed to her presence, but the silence that followed them their first few days of travel slowly began to disappear. She could always see Balin and Thorin at the front, their heads turned one way or another to speak in hushed tones. Behind them rode Gloin and Oin who spoke loudly and spared a few moments to break into laughter now and again. Fili and Kili, she noticed, would wander up and down the line. They would accompany Ori for some miles, then up to Thorin, before trailing down toward her with the others.

Gandalf remained at the head, and that was where Bo would keep him, his sour mood having no less of a hold on him as before. She felt guilty for it, and as she gazed at the dwarves around her, her guilt grew. It was wrong of her to think that they could settle in just any place and leave their past well enough alone. _If I cannot do it, I should not expect others to be more willing of the task._ She could hear her mother's voice ring clear as day in her ears, _'Do onto others as you wish to have done unto you, Bo Billa Baggins.'_ She smiled and shook her head.

"Something on your mind?" Bofur quietly interrupted with a smile on his face. For a moment, she was struck by his expression. Something along the lines of his face, the turn of his smile or the twinkle in his eyes caught her and she smiled wider.

"You're a very peculiar dwarf, Master Bofur." Bo suddenly answered. Bifur huffed and chortled deep in his throat and gestured wildly with his fingers. Bofur laughed and tipped his hat to her gently.

"I'll take that as a compliment from you, mistress," there was a wicked grin that painted his face now, "mostly considering that the wizard made mention you were no ordinary hobbit, yourself."

"Right." Bo laughed. "I could not even imagine what he may have told you about me."

"Not much, to be honest." Bofur frowned and shifted in his saddle. "When we first took on this quest, he said that the fourteenth member was to be a hobbit by the name of Bo Baggins. That, when the line was cross, we would find no truer form of courage than yours."

Bo flushed from her face down to her chest and her mouth ducked into her heavy scarf. _Why in blazes would he say anything like that? They'll expect to see something from me that I will not be able to give, that old wizened creature._ Still, she would not think ill of the wizard, despite his meddling. She sighed and adjusted the scarf against her neck.

"You do that a lot, I've noticed." Bofur said quietly, and gestured to her scarf. "We, well, _I_ thought at first you were… hiding another scar." He vaguely waved to his neck with a gloved hand and then hastily lowered it. Bo hesitated, but with a shake of her head, she lowered the scarf to reveal her pale neck. With a quick flash of her fingers, though, the skin was soon covered up.

"No scar. Just a nervous habit."

"One of those memories, mistress?"

"One of those memories, Master Dwarf."

Bofur nodded his head and left it at that. She swallowed and became painfully aware of the proximity of every dwarf to her. She closed her eyes and felt the scorch of fire behind her eyelids. She inhaled and held her breath as she rode along between Bifur and Bofur, and took a small notice to Bombur behind her. She exhaled and reached out to run her fingers through Myrtle's mane.

"When I meant peculiar," Bo started softly, catching Bofur's attention and gaze once more, "I meant that you… seem far more accepting of an outsider than the others." Her voice had been soft and carried gently through the space between them. Bofur's face frowned again and Bo couldn't help but think how awkward the expression appeared on his features. The other dwarves were made to frown and scowl, it seemed, Thorin most of all, but Bofur's face held a light to it that she couldn't spot in any of the others, even the brothers Fili and Kili.

"I suppose it goes something like this." Bofur answered a few moments later, having collected his words. She jumped in her saddled, startled by his voice, but careful pat from Bifur kept her mind steady. "Sorry, mistress, but what I mean to explain is that… well, this here is my cousin, Bifur. Bombur back there is my brother, by blood. We're not what you would call high class, aye?" Bo nodded with understanding and he continued. "So by that, our occupations were less… noble? Aie, no, that's not what I want to say."

"Less royal?" Bombur included from behind. Bofur shook his head and Bifur grumbled something with an angry shake of his head. He looked about ready to rock from his saddle and Bo feared for his stability upon his seat. Bofur laughed, "Aye! There you are, our work was menial, to say the least. We were toymakers, sans Bombur, who took after our mother."

"I wouldn't call toy making menial," Bo said politely.

Bofur shrugged. "Past that point, we dealt much more frequently with those who weren't strictly our kind. Dori there, with his brother Ori, well – they aren't necessarily high class either, but they're a bit higher than us by way of status."

"How so?" Bo frowned as her gaze shifted to the Ri brothers in front of her. Dori rode with Ori at his right side and Bo could barely hear the quiet words that were exchanged. Nori rode behind them, silent and mildly still upon his saddle, his fingers occasionally tying and untying the ropes among his bags.

"They're weavers, knitters, what have you." Bofur explained quietly with a hand to his hat. "Dori is a deceptive dwarf, and not by willing choice. By his hands, fine fabrics turn into fashion, and he's been known to mend a tunic or two that seemed hopeless. Don't let all that fool you, though," Bofur warned with a snap of his gaze to her. "He's the strongest of us all, can lift a boulder the size of you clear over his head, he can."

"Really?" Bo exclaimed, wide eyed. Her surprise was heard clear up the line and a few of the dwarves turned to look at her. She flushed brightly once more and ducked again into her scarf with a mean grumble to herself. Bifur could only laugh at her and smack his leg in amusement. Bo glared at him over the tuffs of her scarf and with one hand, angrily gestured to him. Bifur blinked, having seen the gesture before and howled with laughter.

"Oy, what did you say?" Bofur asked, surprised by his cousin sudden cheer. Bo grumbled and Bofur leaned in as close as the ponies would allow. "What was that?"

Bo grumbled louder, just enough for him to hear.

"You said what?! _Hahaha!_"

0o0

"_No!" A clash of steel and the vibration echoed through her slender limbs. She cried in pain and fear, her heart hammered in her throat and she couldn't bring herself to breathe. She panicked and stepped back, but the shadow followed her and another swing came down on her. She screamed as the blow jolted the sword from her hands._

"_Please! Please, no!" She cried desperately, her hands now scrambled on the muddy ground. Was it raining? When did it start raining? A crash of thunder clapped over her head and she pulled her hands up to her ears out of shock. There was a howl and she looked up, only to see the blade she lost come down along the left side of her face – _

Bo awoke with a lightning strike flashing through her muscles. She clamped her teeth shut and swallowed the scream. Her limbs burned as she tensed to keep from shooting up from her bedroll in a panic. Another swallow and she exhaled. She closed her eyes and counted to ten and willed the tears to stay away. She thought she heard the faint echoes of screaming in distance, _but no, that's nonsense. Why would there be…?_ She sat up and shuddered from the chill. Not far off from her and under the ledge of the cliff were Fili and Kili, the fire between them. The rest of the camp spread around her and she sighed, relieved.

She stood and shook the spark of nervousness from her bones. Her scarf came around her neck, tough and warm, and she shuffled her way over toward the ponies. There, Myrtle raised her head and nickered happily at seeing her rider. Bo smiled and reached out, petting the velvet nose that was pushed toward her. "Hello, darling. Good night so far, hmm?" Myrtle pushed into her hand again and whined. The pony moved back to her little patch of grass on the cliff. Bo felt her bones jump unexpectedly as a scream drifted from away.

Bo reached for her hip and cursed when she remembered her sword was tucked away under her bedroll. She quickly shifted over the rock with her bare feet and made it to her bed in time to hear another scream float along. Her eyes turned up and locked with the royal brothers. She swallowed and held herself still against the shake that threatened to take her. "… those are not human."

"Orcs." Kili replied. "Night raids, most like. Hunt after dark, when all are asleep."

"I know," Bo whispered. The faint smile that ghosted across Kili's face faded and he shared a heavy look with his brother. Fili shifted in his place and cleared his throat. Bo shook her head and flipped away the edge of her bedroll to pull out her sheathed sword and held it to her side.

"They won't come here, mistress." Kili told her softly. "They hunt mostly in the lowlands, and besides, what's a few orcs in the middle of the night for a band of dwarves?"

"You think a night raid by orcs is a good form of sport?" Thorin's low thunder ripped through the quiet of the camp. Bo gripped her sword tighter and gave Thorin a severe glare tossed over her shoulder as he walked past. He paused and glanced at her sword, but for the slightest of seconds his face furrowed and he inclined his head to her before moving on toward the edge to overlook the valley beneath them.

"We weren't trying to scare her…" Kili winced and gave Bo an apologetic glance. She pursed her lips to a thin, white line on her face and glanced away into the sky. A sharp snort came from Thorin and he glared at his nephews.

"Of course you weren't, but you did. You treat this quest as if it were a game and not a life-ending quest with the respect it deserves. You act like children, with no knowledge of the world." Even Bo winced at the harsh words that the young princes were whipped with, but couldn't find her voice to defend them. The brothers' gaze fell to their boots and their words slipped into silence. Satisfied that he had controlled them, Thorin growled in his throat and turned away from the camp once more.

Bo's gaze flickered over her shoulder to the chastised princes. She turned and shakily sat on her bedroll and placed her sword down beside her with a soft chime. Her crooked fingers lingered over the sheath before she tucked them away in the folds of her coat pockets. Balin came up silently from beside the princes, "Don't let his mood get to you, laddie. Thorin has a stronger reason than most to hate the existence of orcs."

"No one needs a reason more than that they exist to hate orcs." Bo grumbled as she drew her legs up and pressed her face into her knees and glared out over the edge of the camp. Balin paused and then sighed softly and shook his head while he returned his gaze to the princes. Softly, the boys shifted to bring their attention to Balin.

"Back when the Lonely Mountain was taken, our King Thror tried to reclaim Moria." Balin explained and leaned against the jutting rock that hung over the young princes. "But orcs had claimed the mountain pass and realm, first. We were shoved into battle for days, until the foulest of their kind came forth." A stillness had ghosted over the camp and Bo now turned with a frown, glancing at Balin. The older dwarf nodded his head gently and scuffed a boot along the rock.

"His name was Azog, The Defiler. He took to battle with a bloodlust unknown to us. Before long, he had managed to take a hold of our king… and beheaded him." A dark glare came across Balin's face and Bo swallowed with a hand to her neck. The camp around her stirred and stood to move closer to Balin. "Then, he scratched his own name into King Thror's head, and tossed both head and body out through the gates of Moria, lost in the fray of battle." Bo gasped softly at the image and shook her head, ducking back once more into the bends of her knees.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, went mad – stricken by grief or rage, and was lost. We could not find him, even after the battle." Balin sighed sadly and pushed away from the rock, his fists clenched tightly against his sides. "But there, in the madness, I spotted him. A young prince who stared down the wild orc, Azog." Bo's eyes flickered up over her knees to Thorin's back and she could see that his spine straightened, his attention focused on the story as well. Now well aware that he had become a focus, he turned hard and still, like the stone he once lived within, but did not turn around.

"He stood defiant against the enemy, and wielding nothing more than a broken branch, he fought back. He struck hard and took an arm," Balin shook his fist for emphasis, but his gaze was glued to Thorin's back. Bo's followed the line of his boots, the sharp edges of his sword and the fur that lined his shoulders. _An unstoppable force is not to be trifled with, _she could hear her mother say, _and best to hope you're on their side._ Ori stepped beside her and moved forward closer to Thorin. The rest of the camp had stirred and surrounded their exiled-king.

"Heh," Balin chuckled softly. "The enemy learned that day that the line of Durin would not so easily be killed. We rallied behind Thorin and drove our foes back into the darkness of Moria, shutting the gates behind them." A deep sadness echoed through Balin's voice and Bo turned away from Thorin to see a flicker of pain flash over the older dwarf's face. He crossed gazes with Bo and held her attention for a moment before he looked away, his brow furrowed. "But… our dead were beyond count and grief soon overcame us. We lost that day… but found a new hope."

There was a silence and Bo shifted uneasily. "Balin… what happened to Azog?"

"That monster died to his wound long ago." Thorin growled, startling Bo. She turned a sharp gaze to him, but his attention was to the ground where his boots stomped, and he moved angrily through the camp to his sleeping spot. Dwalin followed him easily and the camp settled awkwardly back into bed. Bo hesitated and turned to Gandalf. The wizard blew out from his pipe and sighed heavily. A cold pit set in the darkness of her stomach and she slipped into her bedroll, the fire doing nothing to ease the chill that worked into her soul.

* * *

**Notes: **It seems that with every update, these chapters come out longer and longer. I hope that's a good thing. A bit more of the story, a bit more bonding between Bo and a few of the dwarves, and hopefully a story that isn't just a copy-paste.

Miss Queen, you're on the dot.

Please leave any comments or reviews, they're always encouraging!


	8. Test Your Metal

**Chapter 8**

**Test Your Metal**

* * *

There was a covering of light dew that settled over the company and Bo awoke to a shiver that came up from her bare feet and through her legs. She sat up and blinked away the sleep and crust from her eyes. With a shake, her braid whipped behind her and dripped with a bit of the moisture. Bo shook out her blanket before she stood and carefully did the same to her bedroll before rolling it up and tucking it away on her pack. Her sword was strapped to her hip and her clothes straightened out. The rest of the company was still asleep and the sun just barely started over the edge of the sky.

"It is still early, my dear." Gandalf coughed from his place just beyond the camp. Bo pouted slightly to see him still as he had been before she went to sleep, smoking his pipe and upright in his seat.

"Do you just not sleep, is that it?" Bo whispered to him as she moved her gear closer to the ponies. Myrtle brightened and her ears flickered toward them, but once she noticed Bo didn't come closer, she snuffed angrily and lowered her head.

"A wizard does as he pleases, Miss Baggins." He answered her with amusement and another puff of his pipe. Bo inclined her head to him and moved back to the camp. She sat by the dim coals of the forgotten fire and stroked it with a stick near her. The coals hissed from the moisture in the air and she gently tossed on a few more sticks to help it grow. The small pile shifted and Bombur stirred awake on the other side.

"Morning…" The large dwarf grunted sleepily. He rolled and heaved himself up onto his feet. Bo grinned at the sight, surprised by his steadiness. She watched silently as Bombur walked around the camp to collect food and his cooking pot. Bo continued to stoke the fire to life as he did so and she nearly tumbled over in mirth as Bombur kicked his brother over to get his spoon. Bofur threw his hat at Bombur as his brother walked away.

Bofur rolled over in his bedroll and tried to reach his hat with the tips of his toes and Bo snickered harder as he failed twice. He grinned at her and finally sat up to reach for his hat and pull it towards him. The rest of the camp arose slowly to the smell of Bombur's cooking and packed away their things. Bombur handed Bo a bowl of warm porridge and she held onto it tightly to fight against the cold of the morning.

Gloin and Oin settled by the fire and grumbled into their bowls. Dori placed a bowl into a yawning Ori's hands, Nori disappeared off to the ponies and the princes sat on either side of Balin with empty bowls, waiting for their shares. Bo shook her head and smiled into her spoon, _such an odd little group. Royals, high class, tinkers, toy makers… For once, I am not the sole outcast._ Bifur promptly took his breakfast and landed beside her with a grumble of something in Khuzdul and she almost dropped her bowl.

"Well, good morning to you, too." Bo said with a giggle. She brought her hand up and gestured, mouthing the word '_hello'_ and then '_good morning'_ for him. Bifur repeated the gesture for her, and then again when Bofur sat on her other side.

"Starting early, are we?" Bofur asked with a slurp around his bowl. Bo raised an eyebrow as a small dribble of porridge caught his beard. He wiped it away and burped. She chuckled and shook her head at the sight and tipped her bowl to her mouth, mimicking him.

"There you go!" Bofur cheered with a happy thump to her back. She coughed and pulled the bowl away from her face before she spilled all of it. "Oh, pardon me, mistress, didn' mean to make it harder on you!"

"Just don't kill me before it is useful, Master Bofur." Bo replied with a laugh and cleaned her chin with the edge of a square piece of cloth, one that Bifur had ripped off for her from… somewhere. She didn't ask, and was glad not to understand his explanation. She cleaned her face and continued on with her breakfast, giggling gently when Bifur had Bombur pour a bit more porridge into her bowl when Balin looked away.

The camp was cleared and the fire snuffed out. The ponies were laden with traveling bags and saddles. Bo sighed, _another long day of traveling, is it? And the weather hasn't cleared one bit._ The clouds overhead were heavy and dark, a rain threatened to spill from above, and she hoped they would find another camp before it suddenly poured out on them. The trees and mosses were damp from dew and Bo found an uncomfortable mugginess in between her fingers and toes as she walked, her braided hair plastered against her face. At least her coat was somewhat dry, and the leather armor she bore was comfortable yet still.

She pulled her tough scarf firmly around her neck and moved toward Myrtle. Bo tossed up her pack and secured it to her pony. As she turned to pull herself up into her saddle, she gasped in surprise and took a hasty step back to find Nori beside her. She clutched at her scarf, "Gracious," she hiccupped, "Master Nori, you have a talent for that, you do."

Nori gave her a wide grin. "Sorry, mum. I was asked to see to you, and make sure you could get into your saddle."

"Get into my…" Bo murmured disbelievingly. She flashed a look over her shoulder to search for Dwalin and she found him further off toward the front of the line, Balin by one side, and Thorin facing him. The conversation was quiet, with their heads low, and Bo glared for a moment before coming back to Nori.

"Don't shoot the messenger."

Bo rolled her eyes and patted Nori's offered hand away. "Thank you, Master Dwarf, but I believe I am still fully capable of helping myself." Nori paused and a frown of hesitation pulled at his face, but he shrugged and moved on to his own mount. Bo gripped the reins of her pony and the horn of her saddle to heave herself over with a good tug. Her larger feet caught on the stirrup and she nearly slipped right out (as Hobbits had grips made especially for their large feet, the dwarves couldn't have known).

"Alright there, lass?" Oin asked gruffly from beside her. Bo nodded breathlessly and flashed him a smile. The medic huffed and shook his head, but he reached over and held Myrtle's head still by taking the halter in his large grip. Once upright in the saddle, Bo tightened her grip on the reins and patted Myrtle's neck.

"One day, maybe." Bo said to herself, laughing. "I'll get used to this again."

"Again?" Gloin came up beside his brother. "Aye, you mentioned you've ridden before. Not sure why or how, there weren't many ponies or horses in the Shire by what I saw." Bo gently kicked Myrtle into a trot and she followed behind the other ponies as the line progressed down the path. Thorin was at the head, his nephews beside him, and Balin followed them with Dwalin's company. Dori, Nori, and Ori were closest to her by riding in front of her.

Nori cast her a glance, as did Ori, who's curiosity was clear. Dori, she noticed, made a valiant effort to appear disinterested in her history. She rode between Oin and Gloin, their hard stares identical and Bo wondered what they searched for so intently within her face. Bombur brought up the rear with Bifur and Bofur alongside his mount.

"Hobbits don't usually keep ponies for riding." Bo explained thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, before I was twenty, the only pony I saw belonged to the Maggots, and that was their cart-pulling mare. Sweet thing, but she hated cats." She smiled at the memory and brought her distant gaze to Gloin's bushy face. She marveled at the length of his beard and the trinkets there in, and continued on distractedly, "I hadn't learned to ride a pony until I was twenty-one, when we had to hurry back to Hobbiton."

"What attacked you?" Gloin said bluntly. "You've made mention of it once or twice, but you always go cold if you delve into your memories for it. Fear, child?" Bo blanched at his stark words and shot the dwarf with a wide-eyed expression, her lips tightly pressed together to the point that the normally lush red was painted white. Gloin showed no care that he could have offended her and so Bo trudged on, regardless.

She squared her shoulders and looked ahead. "Goblins." Now even all three of the Ri brothers in front of her turned to look at her at the word. She raised an eyebrow at them and remained silent. Gloin murmured something darkly about the skin-rotted blighters, or something along those lines, and bowed his head to Bo.

"Is that where you acquired that scar?" He asked with his words sharp.

"Yes." Bo replied tightly, her small hands gripped the reins, but her crooked fingers struggled to close as tightly as the others. Gloin's gaze flickered down to her lap where she kept her hands and the look did not pass unnoticed by her.

"Your fingers," he asked, but Bo noted a touch of softness to his tone; "was that due to wielding a weapon you were unfamiliar with?" She hesitated when she glanced at him and wondered where his questions were trying to lead her. Bo felt her mouth work for a bit, but she finally nodded.

"Yes," came her soft answer. "I dropped my sword because I was hit with a whip's end. My fingers…" She looked down to her hand and brought her palm around so it faced the sky. Her fingers twitched, but her pinky and ring finger would do little in the way of movement. "They cracked, and I tried to hold my blade, but my grip was weakened, and made the breaks worse."

"Poor healing." Oin observed. "How long was it before you had your hand wrapped, lass?"

Bo looked at her hand. "One, maybe two days? I don't remember… I had fallen asleep, but I do not recall for how long." She sighed. Ever since the break in her fingers, things had proven a unique challenge. A few things like holding her cups or writing with her quills, reading her books, even cooking and cleaning were frustrating at the best of times.

"You have an instinct for the blade, but no training." Gloin said thoughtfully. He sighed with a rough exhale and shook his head. "And then with half a broken hand? Well, no other case for it, we shall have to train you."

"Train me?" Bo hiccupped. "I – well, I would be thankful for it, but it isn't necessary."

"On the contrary," Oin interjected. "It is absolutely necessary, if you are to be a part of this Company, the skills you have, or the _lack_ of them, may be a deciding factor in the end." Bo stayed silent at his words and nodded her head. The rest of the day had passed on in relative silence. Not due in any part to her, as the Company was more than capable of passing the time sharing jokes or singing to their heart's content. Bifur, on the other hand, was glued to her side and eagerly devoured whatever new signs she could give him.

They could now have broken (painfully broken) conversations. His movements were quick and sometimes unintelligible, but with Bofur's help, she was able to converse with him on some level. At times, though, the conversation would go sour and Bofur would find himself in a fit of laughter as Bifur and Bo traded insults with their hand gestures. They only stopped when Balin cleared his throat and Bo was reminded with a sharp look from the older dwarf of where she stood.

Then the rain came, with sunlight still shining through. No crack of thunder, no lightning, nothing to give warning to the sudden dump from above. The ponies trudged on, uncaring of the water that covered them or the puddles at their hooves. The dwarves, though, were miserable. Bo chuckled into her scarf and brushed her curls away from her forehead. Her braid dripped along her shoulder and she shivered at the water that managed to get under her coat. She saw Bofur fuss with something in his pack and she leaned over to see.

"What are you doing, Master Bofur?" Bo said over the rain. The dwarf huffed and glanced around at the other ponies, perturbed. His hat tipped one way and water poured from the edge.

"There was a cloth I had for Bifur, for his axe." Bofur gestured to his cousin's head and Bifur seemed to sink into his shoulders. Bo blinked and then it dawned on her.

"Oh goodness, the rusting!" Bo gasped. Bofur nodded and sighed, moving to rip something from his traveling pack. Before he could, though, Bo removed her tough scarf. The old wool and silk scarf had been worn to threads, but it kept her warm. She reached over and snagged Bifur's elbow with the tips of her fingers. He looked up and his pony slowed as Myrtle stopped beside them.

Bo leaned closer and reached up toward Bifur's larger head. "Come here, please." She said softly with a smile. Bifur froze and stared at her, but then with the slow shift of snow, he neared her. She smiled brighter even through the rain and gently wrapped her scarf around his head in a strange sort of cloth helm. She leaned away back into her saddle and nodded her head. "There. Does that feel better?"

Bifur murmured something in Khuzdul and his fingers traced the closest fold of the scarf around his forehead. He glanced at Bo almost shyly and nodded his head. His hand came up to his mouth and he pulled it away, toward her. She grinned at the sign, _thank you._ She brought her good hand up and gestured to reply, _you are welcome, my friend._

The smile that lit his face warmed her heart and she felt just a tiny bit of it fall off into the figurative cage of his hands. She hadn't noticed that the line had stopped to watch them, or that Bofur had stopped and grinned like a fool at the sight of the two of them. She couldn't know that the Durin princes watched her with bright curiosity or the frown their uncle bore in confusion. Gandalf's voice broke through the silence as he talked about the weather, to which Dori testily requested that the rain be put to a stop.

Bifur sat straighter in his saddle and Bofur laughingly explained that the scarf appeared quite stylish for Bifur's collection of odd fashion. Bo wasn't sure if that was to be a compliment or a strange insult, but considering how happy Bifur appeared, she took it for the better. Despite the chill of the rain that fell, Bo's center was happily warm and tight.

0o0

The grassy hills gave way to valleys and low riding boulders. The trees thickened for a few miles and Gandalf trotted beside Thorin, their voices hushed but sharp. Bo frowned thoughtfully as Gandalf shook his head and his horse trotted away. They came around to a clearing and Bo found it curious that there were remnants of fields around them. _Lettuce? Those are heads of lettuce, how peculiar… Are those carrots? And potatoes!_ Myrtle stopped and without a thought, Bo slid off from the saddle and wandered around their campsite.

"A farmer… and his family used to live here." Gandalf's voice carried down from where he stood just above on the rise with Thorin. Bo moved toward them and as she did, little by little, a shattered home stood before Gandalf with Thorin pacing within the naked walls. Bo stopped and glanced around at the forgotten fields. _That explains the rows and produce. Nature abhors a straight line…_ Gandalf cleared his throat, "We should find some other place to camp."

"No." Thorin said firmly with his hand on his sword and another on his belt. "We'll rest here, the sun is nearly gone and we don't have time to find another space such as this. Gloin, get a fire started."

"We could make for the Hidden Valley." Gandalf implored. Bo wandered closer with her gaze flickering over the destroyed home. _Was this a fire? No, it couldn't have been, there's no burn marks… The plants are still green and there are no new sprouts. _"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond would offer us food and rest, safety. Thorin, I ask you to reconsider."

"I will not willing walk into the hands of my enemy." Bo vague heard Thorin's growl as her hands trailed over the stone and wood of the home. A break in a beam caught her attention and she leaned up close to inspect it. _This has been snapped. Oh, Gods._ Her eyes widened in surprise. _The wolves could do this; they were large enough to break the gates…_ Bo swallowed and a distant howl within her memories echoed through her ears. She stepped away with her hand shaking.

"They are not your enemy, Thorin!" Gandalf hissed. "I did not give you that map and key so that you may hang onto the threads of the past and repeat the same mistakes!"

"This is my own path and I must take it as I see fit, and I have decided, Master Wizard, that we will avoid the Hidden Valley. So say I!" Thorin commanded with a low voice. Bo peered around from a fallen wall and found Gandalf and Thorin facing each other, both with heavy glares. The exiled-king's shoulders were tense and set, like a battering ram tight to slam away, but Gandalf slumped, defeated.

"Thorin," Gandalf sighed and leaned against his staff heavily. Bo bit her lip and resisted the urge to go forward and offer her support to the elderly wizard.

"_No._" Thorin repeated deeply from his gut. "What help could come from the Elves? They looked on as my people wandered from the scorched home of their families – the _Elves_ did nothing as my people struggled – they _betrayed_ my family and we all suffer for their disinterest in _helping_." It was strange, for at first Bo could hear the anger that colored the king's voice, but the pain that followed and it only seemed to enrage him more as he spoke. Bo cleared her throat and stepped forward as both Gandalf and Thorin turned to glare at her.

Bo resisted the urge to shrink into her shoulders. "I agree with Gandalf," and with a snort from Thorin with a shake of his head, Bo hastily added, "but not for the reasons you believe."

"Then why and why would I consider your words?" Thorin challenged and now turned to face her. She swallowed and straightened her back so that her forehead could reach just at the edge of his chin.

"This home, something crushed it." Bo looked up at the slanted roof and pointed to snapped beams. "There, see? Fire doesn't do that. And it hasn't rained hard enough to flood the fields, as the vegetables are still snug in the soil. The plants… they're crushed around the house. Gandalf…" Bo turned her blue-eyed gaze to the Wizard who now peered at the broken home with a renewed suspicion. "I've only seen this… when the wolves broke through the gates and smashed into the homes along the Shire."

Gandalf stepped forward to Thorin, coming between Bo and the Dwarf King. "Miss Baggins is right. This is not natural, and I do not feel comfortable with the Company stopping here for camp. We do not know what happened here."

"I will not have it; it is too late to find a new camp, in any regard. We will rest here, and keep a watch. Fili! Kili!" Thorin stomped away from Gandalf and Bo, "Take the ponies and guard them! Dwalin, you are to have first watch." Angrily, Gandalf clicked the end of his staff against the ground and strode away from the camp. Bo followed worriedly at his heels.

"Gandalf!" She called to him, breathless, "where are you going?"

"To find company in the only one around here who has any sense!" Gandalf shouted as he broke through the Company, Bofur and Bifur hastily skittering out of the way. A few of the ponies whined at the Wizard, annoyed. Bo could feel an uneasy twist come into her stomach and settle. She swallowed and set about with the others to ready the camp. The sight of the crushed home unnerved her and to stay in the shadow of it felt disrespectful. _This doesn't feel right._ The young princes corralled the ponies away from the camp and Bombur soon had another stew going.

The sun slowly slipped out of the sky and the stars brightened along the darkened blanket overhead and Bo grumbled with worry. "He's been away an awfully long time." She murmured to no one in particular.

Bofur turned to her with a bowl of stew in his hand. "Who? Gandalf?" He handed her the bowl, "He's a wizard, mistress, and he'll do as he pleases. Here, you mind doing us a favor and feeding the lads?" Suddenly, two bowls were placed into her hands and he moved her along toward the end of the camp. "I'll have your bowl ready for you when you return."

_Was he supposed to be gone for this long? What if something happened to him? What if he's hurt?_ Bo worried the bottom of her lip between her teeth as she carefully made her way through the darkness toward the young princes. _And whose bright idea was it to send me out into the dark wood without a torch? Daft. _She came upon Fili and Kili soon enough, but their still backs concerned her.

"Here you go," She said softly, holding the bowls out to them at the height of their chests, but they did not move. She glanced between them and noted the furrow of their brows. "Is… something the matter?"

"We've encountered a slight problem, mistress." Kili murmured and turned his pinched brow to her. "We were supposed to look out for the ponies."

"Annnd…?" Bo said, glancing at the small herd of ponies that grazed along their hooves.

"Well, we _had_ sixteen." Kili answered a bit sheepishly.

"Now we have _fourteen_." Fili finally added with a heavy sigh. Bo blinked in surprise and looked around the princes, quietly counting the ponies herself. She closed her eyes tightly when she realized that they did, indeed, have only fourteen ponies. She turned and looked, but there was no sign of the other animals.

"It's Daisy and Bungo missing, no? Why would they wander off?" She said softly, the bowls slopping slightly in her hands. She flicked her gaze up to Fili, "Should we inform Thorin?"

"No," Fili said hastily and cast a skittish look to her. "Let's not worry just yet. We thought…" He shot a look at Kili and added, " – that you might want to take a look?"

"Yes!" Kili came around her side and took the bowls from her hands. "Since you made a good show of inspecting the old home and field."

"It wasn't a show," Bo muttered through her tight lips. She turned and softly padded through the area, but it wasn't hard to spot. A tree was tipped, its roots yanked from the ground. _How did that happen? How did the boys miss it?_ She followed the line of the tree and her hand ghosted over the bark; she stopped just before the branches. "Something big uprooted these trees… I wonder…"

Fili moved in close next to her. "Wonder what, mistress?"

"If what uprooted these trees… are what smashed the cabin?" She murmured thoughtfully. Fili and Kili shared a look over her. Kili gasped lightly and gripped her shoulder, leaning over to point out into the darkness. "Look! A light! Down, mistress!" She had no say in the matter as Kili hauled her down by her shoulder and Fili took her elbow and did the same. She tumbled down beside them and there was a crash not far from their place in hiding.

All three of them looked between each other and then hurriedly followed the giant creature. They huddled by a fallen tree and peered over toward the fire light that danced in the distance. _Trolls!_ Bo thought with surprise. _How? Mother – the Rangers, they said such things wouldn't be found beyond… oh my._ The creature stomped past them and to Bo's horror, it carried two more of the ponies.

"It has Myrtle and Minty!" Bo hissed angrily. Her own pony angrily whined and squealed as the troll hefted her under his arm, and Minty nipped at the hard skin. _Thorin's pony! Oh, he'll be so cross!_ Bo stood and tried to heave herself over the log, "We have to get them back!" But before she could throw herself over, a pair of hands caught her small waist and another snagged her arm to yank her back.

"No!" Fili hissed at her as he pulled her back over the fallen tree. "Are you mad? They'll take you and eat you whole!"

"Here, mistress," Kili whispered to her and turned her around back toward the camp. "Now we must tell Thorin, go back to the camp and warn him – Fili and I will handle this." Bo's weakest hand gripped the hard edge of his brace and held on as tightly as she could muster with her crooked fingers.

"Are _you_ mad? Wait for me to fetch Thorin, _do not –_ " Bo threatened thickly with a finger shoved into Fili's chest, " – go throwing yourself into that camp without the others, I'll skin you alive myself!" Bo tugged her coat up around her tightly and turned to sprint back toward the camp. The fallen branches snapped under her heavy heels and she came careening into the camp, nearly knocking over Dwalin as she stumbled into the firelight.

"Thorin!" Bo called for him desperately. "Where's Thorin? Here!" Thorin stormed into her line of sight and took Dwalin by his shoulder and moved him away to bring his steady gaze to Bo. She swallowed and pointed behind her. "The lads – the ponies went missing, there – we found them –"

Calmly, Thorin brought a warm hand to her shoulder and leaned down slightly to be at eye level with her. His voice resonated with care, "Breathe, mistress. What did you see?" He asked slowly and she realized that she had allowed her panic to control her. She spoke far too quickly for them to make out her words. She swallowed thickly and again, pointed to where she had left the princes.

"_Trolls,_ Thorin! Three of them – and I fear the lads will attempt to –" She hadn't bothered beyond the word trolls. Thorin released her and pushed her toward Bofur. The other dwarf caught her, but everyone's attention was to Thorin. The king yanked his sword into his grip and picked up his oak branch shield and nodded to Dwalin. The largest dwarf pulled out his axe and growled something in Khuzdul to the others. Bofur turned Bo to him and his face was hard with determination.

"Stay here, lass." Bofur commanded and moved her toward her bedroll.

"No!" Bo fought his hold on her arms and went to pick up her sword. "I'm going with you!"

"Mistress," Bofur frowned and held her hand to still her movements. "Do not do this. We cannot help the lads if we are concerned with looking out for you. Please." He begged at the end, his brows drooping to echo the sadness in his voice. Bo felt searing heat flash up her spine and she growled. Bofur wouldn't budge and he stared at her until she relented. With a nod, the dwarf collected his weapon and followed his companions.

The fire flickered within its makeshift hearth and Bo could feel none of its heat. She paced around the camp and her limbs trembled with anxiety and uselessness. A sweat started to build along her forehead and under her braid at the back of her neck. She wrung her hands together and her crooked fingers felt a phantom pain she had not hand in years. _I must help them! I'm not useless; they don't need to defend me._ After a while, Bo gave in to her anxiety and picked up her sword and hurried to the trolls' campsite.

She could hear very little through the thickness of the trees and she hurried through the darkness. At the edge of the camp, she gasped and ducked behind a tree. She whined soft and low in her throat to see the dwarves captured, trapped in sack bags and even a few on the fire to roast. _Think, Bo Billa, think! Get them out, get them out, get them out._ Bo wandered one way down the camp, and then down the other side, looking for anything to give her an edge.

"Don't bother with cooking them!" A troll suddenly growled. "Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly!"

"No!" Another shouted and reached over to slap the first who spoke. "They should be sautéed and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage." Bo stopped cold and tossed a severe glance over her shoulder at the trolls. _Grilled? Sage? Oh, you have got to be joking._ Who knew trolls cared what their cooking had in its recipe? Bo shook her head and finally reached the edge of the camp where the horses were kept. She pulled out her sword and with one half-glance at the trolls; she sawed away at the rope that held the fence up.

The dwarves that were turned over the fire snapped and snarled at the trolls that argued over them, but Bo did not stop. The ponies needed to be freed and hopefully they would prove to be a good distraction. The rope finally split and Bo hesitated at the gate as one of the trolls stomped around the fire. "Never mind the seasoning! We ain't got all night and dawn is soon coming – I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Her hands stopped and her fingers went cold. _Dawn? Turned to stone? Gods above, then – then I only need to stall them!_ With a flick of her arms, the gate swung open and she hissed at Myrtle. The pony nickered and galloped out of the pen, the other ponies soon followed and nearly tripped over Bo on their way to get out. Bo dove away from the gate and behind a rock near the pen when she heard one of the trolls roar in surprise.

"Oy! Get them! The nads are escaping!" One of them shouted. Hastily and with a shake of fear, Bo scrambled away from the pen and rolled around the rock toward the other side. She fell near Thorin and Oin and the exiled-king's gaze went wide and he opened his mouth, either to scold her or tell her to run. She slapped her hand with her crooked fingers over his mouth and shushed him, her face close to his and her blue gaze in a glare.

"Dawn, Thorin!" She hissed at him. "We just need to outwit them until then!" Bo reached for his ties and desperately tried to get them loose to have him escape and help her. She only got one knot out before there was a hard stomp behind her. Bo looked up over her shoulder, but it was too late to run. A massive hand came down and crushed her ribs to her lungs and she gasped with pain.

"Look here, lads!" The troll roughly brought her up to his eyes. "Another one!"

"No – that one looks different." The second groused. "He's smaller! There's hardly any meat on him!"

"Can I eat him?"

"Here, there's plenty for us all. This is just a snack." Bo gasped and gagged at the stench that wafted up into her face from the rotting mouth before her. She coughed and turned her face away the closer she was pulled to the creature's face. She could hear the dwarves shouting now, desperately trying to distract the trolls from eating her. A chill settled down her neck from the touch of her sweat and she shook in the creature's hold. A flash of phantom blade came before her eyes and there was a high squeal – a goblin's howl – in the back of her mind. She shuddered with fear – _Don't you faint, Bo Billa, fight!_

Rage tangled up in Bo's stomach and violently twisted her organ to the point that she gritted her teeth and viciously wrenched her right arm out from the fingers of the troll's grip. She only had a few seconds and the edges of her vision were blurry from her frenzy, but she balled up her fist as far as her crooked fingers would allow and threw a wild haymaker that collided with the troll's nose. She managed to hit the soft cartilage between the nostrils and the troll howled in surprise. She was thrown, dropped to the ground and she rolled against the rock, her back felt like it split down the middle with pain and a white-hot knife. She rolled onto her feet and clutched her hand to her chest as the pain throbbed angrily through her palm.

"The little blighter hit me!" Cried the troll and held his nose. Bo snorted into the dirt and felt dizzy as she tried to sit up right. _I barely hit harder than the wind does a branch!_ She coughed as dirt burned up her nose and she felt a cold stickiness slip down her face. _Gods, I'm bleeding. Excellent._ Dirt, sweat, and blood mixed together and she clicked her teeth together. She found a sword on the ground, not her own, and pulled it with all her might. It weighed an uncomfortable mass and her body rocked with its presence. She recognized the bronze blade, the star-blaze at the end of it. _Balin._

She stood, defiant, the sword pulling her to one side with its weight and her hand with the crooked fingers tightly wrapped against her stomach. She glared up at the trolls that surrounded her, one eye tightly shut as the blood dripped into it. She used Balin's sword to hold herself up as much as to look like a threat and morbidly found a small hint of amusement at the idea of the sword being kicked out from under her, sending her into a sprawl.

"Doesn't deserve to be eaten, for all the trouble it's given us." Growled the biggest troll. He reached down to take another swing at Bo, but she stepped back and swung Balin's sword with all that she could muster. She winded herself just by trying to lift it to the level of her hip, but she clipped the fingers of the approaching troll.

"_Don't_," Bo growled as loudly as she could with the dirt in her throat, "_you touch me._" A thick blackness had taken her vision and all she could focus on was the threat in front of her, the faces of the trolls. The weight of the sword felt good and left a burn in her muscles. Her shoulder was tight with pain and her fingers sweated around the handle of the blade, but she would not let go – _not this time!_

"Look at that, lads." One of the trolls laughed. "It means to fight us! Come here, creature, and save yourself the trouble." The troll lashed out at her and Bo stumbled back over her heels and slammed into the boulder. She hissed and could feel the roll of movement spark through her arm to swing. Through the darkness in her vision, she could see the sword come up to her shoulder and the tip of it land in the soft skin between the troll's fingers.

"_I said don't!_"

"Enough already!" Roared one of the trolls, "take him now!"

"_The dawn will take you all!_"

Bo recognized the voice, but the blinding flash of light cracked the dark tunnel that had consumed her vision and she gasped. Balin's sword was dropped and her arm came up to shield her eyes. The last of what she could see before her world suddenly shifted to one side was the trolls and their skins crumbling into stone.

… _Gandalf._

* * *

**Note: **PTSD is not an easy thing to deal with, and watching my brother struggle with it is what inspires my version of battle-scarred Bo. I hope I managed to describe the struggle and flashbacks well enough to give it some justice. Peace to all those who suffer its weight.

I had a few PMs asking, "This story, it's a romance fic, but you haven't paired her with anyone yet." I would like to politely point out that, in the story's description, it's an adventure and friendship fic. If there is to be romance, it's probably a slow-burn romance, and you're just as likely to guess who she'll fall in love with as I am (I have not a single clue).

Votes to see who she would end up with, I suppose?

Miss Queen, I never mean to answer any questions directly, haha.

Please review and comment, as it is a great encouragement for me! Thank you!


	9. A Rose in Thorns

**Chapter 9**

**A Rose in Thorns**

* * *

"_Is she dead?" Sharp nails hooked her coat and pulled at her clothes. Bo could feel her throat constrict with a scream trapped under her tongue. No amount of will seemed to make her voice break through her silence. Another claw caught her curly hair and pulled back to expose her neck. She heard it, the echoing scream that made her eyes water, but nothing came from her throat or lungs. She was as silent as death, and she prayed to whatever Gods would listen that she wasn't._

"_Take her."_

The first thing that Bo became aware of was the soft feel of cloth against her forehead. Blearily, she rolled her eyes behind her eyelids and the dirt within them. She coughed gently and a hand came to rest on her cheek. "Easy, my dear girl, easy." That sounded like… _Gandalf_. A wet slip of cloth cleaned away at her face and slowly, she remembered being tossed. She groaned and opened her eyes to bright light of a morning sun and she hissed. Her hand came up to her face, but before she could rub at her eyes, her palm was caught against another's. She blinked and looked up to find a smiling Bofur.

"By Mahal," he exhaled with relief, his fingers tightened around her small hand, "you gave us quite a scare, little mistress." He pulled her up gently and she could hear Oin grumbling behind her, the cloth now gone_. Was he cleaning my wound? What wound?_ She looked over her shoulder with confusion and Oin huffed as he cleaned his cloth.

"Your head bashed against a rock when they threw you." He said roughly and flicked out his cloth with a hard jerk of his wrist. "Surprised us all, the crack was so loud, we thought you dead – but, lo and behold, your stubbornness may rival ours, because you _stood_."

"I… had to," Bo murmured with a scratchy voice. "I couldn't… let them take you all." There was a silence that fell over the group and Oin's hand fell away from her face. She looked up and found several frowning faces that surrounded her. "Did I… say something wrong?" Ori shifted uncomfortably by Dori's side and Nori narrowed his eyes at her, but no one seemed willing to answer her. Bofur shifted back into her line of sight.

"No, little mistress." Bofur smiled at her. "Here. Let's get you patched up and moving, shall we?" Bofur and Oin pulled her to her feet and she gently brushed off her clothes. The leather armor she wore under her trousers and coat had served her well for a bit of scruff. Bifur was being helped back into his pants by Dwalin and Dori, and the others managed well enough on their own. Gandalf came up beside her and placed a soft hold on her shoulder.

"How are you, Bo?" The wizard asked quietly. Bo could only bring her watery blue eyes up to his face and nod. She was fine, she could see straight, at least. She told him as much and he sighed heavily with a hand that passed through her curls and down to the end of her braid. "Hobbits, such remarkably sturdy creatures." He patted her shoulder and stood to his full height. Bo shakily followed him with Bofur close at hand. She swallowed and turned to the dwarf.

"You hover as if I am about to break." Bo said with a hiccup, having not yet found the full strength of her voice. Bofur gave her a nervous chuckle and shrugged his shoulders and there she noticed that his clothing was askew. His coat slanted one way and his hat was nearly off his head. Bofur reached up and tugged it hastily back into place with a weak smile.

"With all due respect, mistress, you… flew about the length of three carts. We…" Bofur trailed off with his hands wavering by his sides. Bo stopped and glanced back to where she had fallen. There on the ground was a small speck of blood and trails through the dirt of where the blade had swung and her feet had slipped. She looked back to the campfire and the trolls, _by the Gods, he's right… how did I survive that?_ Her hand went up to her temple and felt the small cut that she now bore. It was just above her eye and her old scar. She scoffed and dropped her hand and continued to walk away.

"Mountain trolls." Gandalf murmured. He tapped the shoulder of one of them. His hand came up and combed down his long graybeard and he hummed in thought. Bo came up and walked past him as Thorin moved toward the wizard.

"They could not have moved in daylight. How is it that they are here, wizard?" Thorin asked quietly, a low worry in his voice. Bo retrieved her sword that had been lost in the fray and inspected it. She frowned deeply and turned the sword over to find several notches in the blade. Gloin's shadow appeared over her shoulder.

"That's no good, lass." He said as he took the blade from her hands. She sighed and pressed the tips of her fingers to the dips of her eyes and frowned into her palm. Gloin huffed, "We have several blacksmiths in our Company, but with no smithy or forge, we are useless to you."

Bo glanced up at the blade and then to Gloin, "What am I to do, then? I haven't shot a bow and arrow in many years. It would be laughable, even after I was killed." Gloin snorted and sheathed her blade before offering her a hand. Curious, she took it and he led her away with the rest of the camp.

"We'll find something for you." He assured her. "For now, we shall keep the blade and see if we can salvage it later on, should the opportunity arise." Bo nodded her head and smiled briefly at the dwarf, thankful for his words. There was a small commotion just beyond them and Gloin released her hand to follow the Company. Bo paused and turned her head up to see the full length of the mouth that led into the cave. She stepped toward the shadow of it and then gagged immediately. Her hand slapped up to her mouth and she stumbled back.

_It smells like death!_ She swallowed thickly and shook her head. She would not be following the Company in there. Instead, she paced around under the cliff of the cave and could hear the rumble of voices from within and as they differed further away, she grew anxious. It wasn't long before they returned and a few of them snickered, pocketing a few gleaming items in the many hiding places within their coats and armor. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, _dwarves._

"Bo, come here, my dear." Gandalf called to her. Startled, Bo hustled over to the tall wizard and peered up at him with wide eyes. From behind his back he produced a short sword in a smooth leather sheath that blinked with a bright sheen she hadn't seen before. Awed, she held her hands out and the wizard placed the weapon in her hold. She looked up to him and smiled widely. Her hand gripped the handle and pulled it out. The blade sung lightly as it was removed and shone like a star even in the dim morning light.

"Gandalf," Bo said breathlessly, "It's beautiful."

"It was made in the First Age, by the high elves. See this, the blade shall glow blue, when Orcs or Goblins come near." He smiled gently at her and tapped his staff lightly. "May the blade serve you faithfully in the days that come." With that, he moved on to the front of the line and Bo followed with unsteady feet, still at odds with the beauty of the blade she had been given. She hooked the sheath around her belt that held her leather armor in place around her hips and grinned at Bofur when he spotted the blade.

She had no time to explain, though, as a crashing sound echoed around them through the trees. Alarmed, Bo drew her new sword and once more, the blade's hymn resonated through the air as it was released. A sled and rabbits came barreling into their clearing and Bo found that she was pressed between Nori and Bofur, their own weapons at the ready. Upon the sled came a raggedy man dressed in tattered cloaks. Birds fluttered around his head and panicked whistling filled the air. A staff clinked haphazardly against the sled and nearly slipped from the old man's hand when he came to a full and abrupt stop.

"Radagast!"

0o0

"What's taking them so long?"

"Master Bofur, I do believe you were the one that mentioned wizards doing as they pleased." Bofur shot her one of the sharpest looks she had seen on his face yet and she could do nothing more than flash a mischievous grin in return. He was steady for a moment before his face relented and the twinkling came back into his eyes.

"You've certainly found your tongue, aye, mistress?" Bofur pinched her chin playfully between his thumb and index. Bo snickered and gently smacked his hand away from her face. Around them the Company was split. Thorin remained as close to the wizards as possible without intruding into their conversation, Dwalin and Balin not too far from his side. Nori and Dori stood above them on a small ledge and the oldest brother had his arms crossed with a heavy frown upon his lips.

Ori sat next to Bo, his journal open and if she peered over her shoulder with enough stealth, Bo could see the beginnings of Bifur's axe and forehead along the top of the parchment. Bifur and Bombur stood the furthest from the group and both seemed intent on their conversation, with Bifur's animated hands nearly punching Bombur clear through his nose. Bo chuckled at the sight and turned the sword over in her hands, her gaze cast out over the Company.

Then a howl ripped through the air. In an instant, Bo was on her feet and her sword gripped tightly in her fingers. Bofur was up on his feet and beside her at the ready. "Was that a wolf?" Bo cried, a tremble echoed through her muscles. "Are there wolves out here? Gandalf!" Her voice cracked over the wizard's name. It was only a single howl, but many more of them rolled through her memories and she almost allowed her sword to slip from her hands. Bofur held her shoulder and leaned close to her.

"Steady, mistress, steady." Bofur tightened his fingers and she could feel it through her armor, and then his hand slipped away from her shoulder. Though it stilled her quivering muscles, it did nothing to slow the frantic thump of her heart. Her skin itched at the handle of the sword and the tip rose higher in the air. Her eyes narrowed and she tensed to keep her muscles still. A chill ran down her neck and into her back and she gritted her teeth behind her lips. _Don't lose your nerve, Bo. Do as Bofur says; steady. _The Company drew close together and kept her near the center. A sharp howl from behind caused them to turn around and into the gaze of a pouncing warg.

"Thorin!" Bo shouted with a strangled voice. The warrior king had his new blade drawn and skillfully skewered the warg through its skull. The lifeless body tipped forward from its momentum and Thorin was dragged down along with it. It gave the rider astride the warg a chance to strike, but a mighty blow from Dwalin cleared him from the back of the warg and into the ground in a tangle of limbs. The bite of Dwalin's axe was deep and the orc choked on its blood before sighing in death.

"An Orc scout," Thorin spat as he pulled his blade out in a swift yank. He looked up to Dwalin, then over to Gandalf. "If there is one, there is another and a pack not far behind it."

"Orc _pack_?" Bo squeaked in a high voice. "Then we must run!"

"Where?" Demanded Fili, his double blades held tightly against his sides. He tossed his gaze between Gandalf and Thorin, a hard pull to the middle of his heavy brow. "We are leagues from anywhere safe!"

"No, we're not." Bo hissed and nearly swung her sword into the ground from her frustration. She turned to Gandalf and pleaded, "Gandalf, the elves, please! They will help us, we are not far from Riven – "

"_No._" Thorin hissed at her with narrowed eyes. "We shall make a stand here; we won't run from this threat."

"Against how many?" Bo challenged and stepped up to the exiled king with a boiling rage in her stomach. "Save yourself from your own stubbornness, we have no account of their numbers and the area is unknown to us. What are we to _do_?" She demanded with only her arm's length between them. Thorin did not waver and his stone glare fixed her to her spot, but she continued. "Are we to climb the trees, then? Kili is the only one useful from there – or Ori! And what will arrows and sharp rocks do against a _pack_?"

"I shall lead them off!" Radagast interrupted with a strike of his staff against the ground. The Company turned to him, half of them surprised, the other half still on edge from the attack. Gandalf glanced at his fellow wizard with a mixture of disbelief and pain, and he shook his head before stepping up to his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"These are Gundabad Wargs, Radagast." Gandalf murmured to his companion. "They will outrun you!"

"_These_ are Rhosgobel Rabbits!" Radagast answered confidently amidst another howl from around them. He grinned under his beard and shook his staff into Gandalf's face. "I will greatly enjoy seeing them try!" But Gandalf was struck with hesitation and he paused for a long moment before a sigh escaped him. He released the brown wizard and waved him off. Bo held her onto her sword with a slipping grip as the other wizard disappeared into the brush and glanced down at the blade to find it glowing as brightly blue as the sky above them. The beauty of the blade only unnerved her. Bofur pressed into her side and the normal shine in his gaze had hardened into the glint of a fighter's resolve.

Gandalf hastily split through the Company, "Gather your things! Quickly, quickly! We haven't time, we must fly, and now!" A pack was shoved into Bo's hands and with a clumsy swing she had the bag slung over her shoulder and against her back. She sheathed her weapon to keep from fumbling with it as she ran and without a thought she took Bifur's hand as he held it out for her. Bifur pulled her along and she struggled to keep his pace. Her short legs failed to cover the length of his strides and a searing throb quaked within her skull from the place of her newest wound.

The forest disappeared from around them and the landscape gave way to rolling plains and snarling boulders protruding as teeth from the ground. Bo lost her grip on Bifur's hand and the dwarf snapped his words in Khuzdul. Almost immediately a panicked scream started to work its way up through her throat as the pounding of paws echoed in her thoughts with bright flashes of rotted gums and broken teeth clouded her vision. A hard slap to her back forced her to swallow her terror and she found Nori's strong grip take her elbow and bring her hard against his side.

A stitch began to grow in her right side. It had been years since she had sprinted and so suddenly, as well. She wheezed lightly as they took a sharp turn and pressed into the curve of another boulder. Ori nearly flew into the open, but Thorin grabbed the back of his coat and hauled him back into cover and into the arms of his older brother. Bo was tightly smothered against the rock and Nori's larger form, his hand over her mouth to hide her heavy breathing. Bo closed her eyes tightly and the throb from her skull produced a heat behind her eyes that made them water.

She knew her breathing was loud and was thankful for Nori's steady hand. She gripped his wrist and held his hand there and she desperately tried to calm her frantic inhales. Before she had her bearings and her vision could stop swimming, Nori drew her away from the protection of the rock and into Ori's back. Between Dori and Nori, Ori and Bo ran as best they could, their bones jostled about within their skin from sudden turns and quick drops. Bo gasped in pain, her eyes watery and her vision a blurred mess of colors and an edge of blackness. She clung helplessly to Ori's coat and the younger dwarf reached behind him to take her other hand and pull her closer to his side.

They came to another brutal stop and Bo nearly skidded off the sole of her heels when they did. She found herself wrapped in Bofur's arms with her back against his chest. He pulled her scarf from Bifur's neck and hastily wrapped it around her neck and face, hiding her more feminine features. Bifur growled in Khuzdul and Bofur hissed in reply, "You know they go for the women first!" Now she felt like she was suffocating and the scarf became a noose around her neck. Another wave of panic spiraled through her muscles and she gripped Bofur's arms to steady her trembling. He tightened his hold around her and whispered, "Hush, mistress, shh-shh!"

There was a growl from above and the sound of a warg's padding paws silenced her. She held on to Bofur's arms and inhaled to hold her erratic breathing at bay until the danger could pass. She reached up and shifted her scarf around her eyes slightly to better see around her, but from the corner of her vision, Kili spun away from the boulder and drew his bow and arrow up into the sky. The arrow was fired and down tumbled a wounded warg and its rider. Both easily and quickly dispatched by the surrounding members of the Company.

"They will have heard him! Run, quickly!" Gandalf commanded and shoved Thorin out into the open. The warrior-king led them further into the valley and Bo placed a shaking hand on the hilt of her sword as she ran. There was nowhere to hide; the plains went on for as far as her keen eyes could see. _We will have to stand and fight, there is no choice!_ Chaos erupted around her as the Company dissolved into islands, each to their own weapons and panic.

"Where's Gandalf?"

"Kili, shoot!"

"Look out, Dori!"

"He's abandoned us, Thorin," Dwalin's voice broke out from the mayhem. "I told you not to trust a wizard!" Bo's gaze flickered around the open valley in search of the familiar grey robes and hat. She couldn't see the old wizard anywhere and a hot bubble of irritation smoldered in her stomach. _He couldn't have left us! Where would he have gone?_ She spun on her heels looking for any form of cover, and finally spotted the tip of Gandalf's hat disappearing within one of the rocks.

"This way!" Bo shouted. She pulled her blade out from its sheath and allowed the blade to sing in the light of day as she pointed it toward the rock. "Cover, right there!" No sooner had she warn them to turn when Gandalf's face appeared from within the rock. He waved and the Company drew closer to the rocks when able. Bo was nearly there, Bofur at her back, when she spied Kili still fending off wargs with what little arrows he had left. She turned, "Bofur, the lad!" A hard look came over her protector's face and he dashed to Kili. The young prince nearly through off the other dwarf, but Bofur's strength held and he dragged Kili away from the battle, wargs hot on their heels.

Bo reached the edge of cover and Thorin wasted no time in yanking her over by her shoulder. She tumbled into the darkness and crashed into an awaiting Bombur. The larger dwarf hurriedly turned and secured her behind him to protect her from the other falling members. Bo was shaking, her sword rattled in her palms and she pressed the tip of the blade into the ground as an anchor. She swallowed thickly and coughed on the dirt that dammed her nose and throat. Her blue gaze flashed up to the mouth of their escape and the last of the Company tumbled down into the darkness.

Instantly, Bofur was on his feet and to his brother. Bombur pointed over his shoulder to her and Bofur nearly lost his muscles from sagging in relief as hard as he did. Bo could only offer him a weak smile and she sheathed her sword with clumsy fingers. Once the sword was away, the heels of her palms came up to her eyes and she pressed them into her sockets hard. She rubbed away what tears threatened to fall and she inhaled several times to control the beating of her frightened heart. _This is nothing like traveling with the Rangers. They always spotted the orcs or goblins miles before we were in danger. It's been twenty years nearly since then, _Bo looked up to the jagged edges of the ceiling and sighed tightly with a choked sob on her lips, _what am I doing here? This is no place for a hobbit! Lest of all one past her prime._

A horn cried in the distance and the Company went still. Gandalf looked into the filtered light coming through their crack into the passageway and Thorin growled low in his throat, "_Elves._" The wizard shot him a stern frown, but Dwalin's voice broke through from behind them.

"There is a path!" He called from away. "But I cannot see where it leads. Do we follow it, or no?!"

Bofur gripped Bo's elbow tightly, "Follow it, of course!" Then with a hearty shove, she was placed at the front of the line and marched up to Dwalin. The older warrior gave her a once over and his heavy brow furrowed. He placed a much gentler hand on her shoulder and pulled her behind him. She followed in his shadow as closely as she could, but her feet staggered and her heels itched with pain. Soon, she was walking slower than the rest of the Company, and when one or two of them tried to lead her on, she waved them away. _I'm tired, _she wanted to tell them, _I haven't run that long or that hard in years. I can barely lift my legs to walk, lest of all keep up with you._ But her mouth would not move, and she would not bring herself to complain, not when the others had been through worse.

The crags above them were angry slips of sharp edges and Bo mindlessly wandered behind the Company while her eyes stayed above her in, counting the rays of sunlight that fluttered through the top. Then a small tingle gently curled up her legs and left tendrils of warmth throughout her limbs. The heavy stone that had sat in her stomach crumbled away and she felt light on her feet. She paused and blinked, but the dwarves continued to walk on with no notice to the change in the air. Gandalf came up alongside her and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You feel it." Gandalf said and she knew it wasn't a question.

She nodded. "It's… magic. Warm magic. Elf work." Her blue gaze flickered to the line of dwarves, mindful of the words she said as she followed once more, with Gandalf behind her. "Are we…?"

"We are close." He answered her hurriedly. A soft, easy smile came to Bo's face and twisted her scar along her face slightly. She sighed and her feet carried her with more determination. _Rivendell. The home of Lord Elrond. I never thought I would see the day…_ She glanced up to the line of the Company and with renewed energy, she shouldered her pack higher and shuffled through the members of the group. Being a Hobbit as she was, it was with ease that she could slip past them, a few laughed at her squirrely movements and made way for her as she tried to get to the front.

"Hold on, mistress." Dwalin caught her shoulder and held her behind Thorin as they poured into the cliff's edge that overlooked the deep valley and the forest that sprouted throughout the halls and high rooms. Bo gasped at the warm sight of the slanted roofs and flowing fountains with the golden tint of the canopies and the heavy fall of branches into the homes.

"The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue, it is known by another name." Gandalf explained to the deathly silent group of dwarves. Bo bounced on the ends of her toes and gripped the strap over her shoulder with the excitement of a child. The sight of the elven home placed a spark of life in her chest and she grinned to the group behind her.

"Rivendell!"

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**Notes: **A bit shorter than the last chapters, but Rivendell itself is going to be one massive chapter on its own, so I hope you enjoy that!

Thanks again to my returning reviewers, you guys have been awesome and made this experience a joy to have. To my newest comers from last chapter, your reviews have been great to read, especially the detailed ones!

In recent news, I have opened up a Tumblr (you can find the link in my profile!), for this story and once I have the time for it, I'll be putting up descriptions for Bo, hints to her past, answering questions about the story in a much more real time basis, as well as adding Tibbits that didn't make it into the chapters!

As always, please read and review, it makes this processes so memorable!


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